No Ordinary Love
by Det. Jim Bradshaw
Summary: Deciding to abscond with his younger sister, Viserys sails to Dorne. Once there, love, triumph, and power have hands to play in the tumultuous fortune that comes with the throne of Westeros and those who are called upon to assume their roles.
1. Chapter 1

_So. This is what I've been working on. I hope you enjoy it. Please feel free to review should the need strike you._

He had her by the arm, and was yanking her into her bedroom so she could pack her clothes.

"Stop it," she said, her voice the only reasonable aspect of the situation. The thin gossamer gown he had ordered her to wear earlier caught the air and created a little air cloud before adjusting once more to the contours of her body. Only moments before they had seen the Dothraki lord, and then Viserys had gazed upon her with a queer look in his eye before dragging her indoors.

"You will go in that room, and you will do what I tell you," he ordered her, his voice deadly with threat.

"Viserys, you're not making sense-" She cried, her confusion overcoming her fear.

"I told you—" he pushed her against the doorframe, his hand gripping her arm. She hit it in an awkward way, and she felt the sudden explosion of pain in her back.

"—We're leaving." He released her and turned, walking down the hall.

"Where are we going?" Her voice chimed at his receding back.

She watched as his delicately arched shoulders swung around in a decidedly jaunty manner.

"Wouldn't you like to know? But I only tell little dragon princesses who do what they're told." He smiled and he turned a corner, leaving her to her thoughts.

Her back throbbed where he had shoved her. She stood there for a moment, absorbing the pain and slowly coming to understand that the Dothraki lord was not to be hers. He had been frightening in his intensity. Now Viserys and she would travel once again to some other lord or such, braving the dangers that their royal blood inspired amongst conspirators and hired assassins—what it had felt like for seemingly half her life.

Her blood turned to fire, and Daenerys walked into her bedroom and tasted the molten flavor in her mouth; it compelled her as she mentally prepared herself for packing. First in were the light silks that had been gifted to her during her stay in Pentos. The gown she wore, that had once made her feel exquisite, but now made her feel less than optimum, also went in. She carefully selected another traveling gown she had worn a year earlier that was made of simple cotton; it possessed a long hem and sleeves, and was a light periwinkle color—it covered most, and yet was breathable in the hot Pentos weather.

One gauzy gown after another made its way into her woven satchel, colors as bright as the summer sun, green like fresh green grasses newly sprung, and mauve, a color like no other. She gently laid them down, envisioning the next place they would call home. Maybe it would have a red door and a tree in the front yard.

She looked up and went to her window, suddenly weary of the task before her, and thought of how she had often sat and dreamed of a life beyond the narrow sea. Daenerys had taken great comfort in that sea, in its calm aquamarine waters, and the dry, pale sand that pervaded. Those characteristics made the sea all the more enticingly sweet to slip into, and she often had, finding refuge in a cove where the waves were calm and she could observe the sea animals unbeknownst to her brother or any one else.

Another sigh left her lips, and she returned to her task of packing. Softly, a handmaiden stole into her quarters, having been instructed, Dany assumed, in what was taking place. The young woman found and opened another suitcase, and began to put Dany's precious things in it. There was the necklace a merchant had given her on their journey to Pentos, and a small tiara Illyrio had given her that was woven silver with what looked like dewdrops, but were actually tiny, intricately faceted pieces of pink quartz; an airy concoction. Besides that, there was a small amethyst ring. Dany retrieved it, and slid it on her finger. She admired the ring's deep hints of color.

Before she knew it, they were boarding a ship, her ahead of her brother, with two maidservants and five bodyguards to accompany them (Illyrio had insisted, in his generosity, with gifting them with a purse heavy with gold, one heavy with silver, and to Dany herself, a few precious trinkets he had been saving to give her for her wedding that she had yet to open). They were headed into the top decks of the ship, where Viserys had secured a cabin for their eminent voyage.

Though her eyes were not on Viserys, Dany could surmise that he had his chest puffed out, dragon that he was, and was absorbing the extra attention they were receiving because of their looks. She chose to focus on getting her things in the cabin.

The cabin was well furnished. It possessed a table and chairs, two beds, (her personal maidservant, Mari, would be sleeping further below deck, with the rest of their party) a wardrobe, and a view of the sea. Dany dropped her bags next to the wardrobe, and fastened herself to the window. Inwardly, she lamented that she would receive no fresh seawater smell, for the window was sealed shut, but at least it would provide light and some diversion. She scanned the rest of her surroundings, and found a bookshelf laden with books, and one book in particular that caught her eye. _The Tides of Perdita Isle _was the name of the book, and on the cover a sea-green image of tall, craggy cliffs.

She looked over her shoulder at her brother, who was busy unpacking his things. He hummed a little tune.

"Viserys?" she said his name to catch his attention. He looked up from what he was doing and smiled at her. He was a great deal older than her, a true adult, something she forgot at times. With his platinum hair, light eyes, and wiry swagger, he looked like an older, more grown version of her, albeit with a man's strength and a callous look in his eye.

"Tell me, brother what are we doing here? I thought that I was to be married to a Dothraki lord. Did you remember how I felt? Did you stop the wedding because of my feelings?"

His smile was a mask.

"Of course, Daenerys. Your feelings are important to me. As were my own. I couldn't see my blood married off to a barbarian. There is no better blood than yours and it should not be sullied." His eyes slid away as though he were forgetting something.

Dany let a little silence pervade before speaking again. "You speak and yet I hear you say nothing. I want to know where are we going. Please, you can at least tell me that."

"Yes. Well." He let out a sigh. "Not just now." He sat on the bed and began to take off his shoes.

Daenerys didn't know what to make of that. _Was he delaying her or merely exhausted by the idea of another trip, as she was? _Yet that didn't sit right. Something within her was beginning to waken, and it felt invigorating and relaxing at the same time.

"I am Daenerys Stormborn of the House Targaryen. Tell me where we are going." She asserted herself.

"I am the heir to the Iron Throne, and you would do well to obey _me_." Viserys retorted pointedly. His ire was beginning to awaken. He surveyed her coolly from his vantage on the bed. As his eyes scanned her eyes, which were purple with fire, some part of him felt like he was seeing her for the first time.

"Come here," he motioned her closer. She took a small step, not fearing him.

"Feisty little one, aren't you?" He pulled her forward and on top of him as though she was a child. She was straddling him, and he played with her fingers as he did when they were younger, pulling her fingers through his, feeling the moisture between her digits. Whatever tension had been between them extinguished itself when he held her like he had when they were just children.

"I don't mean to keep from you what's going on. By all means I will tell you soon. But it will be a long journey and I would rather privately consider a game plan before speaking it. I will tell you where we are going, but first I have to make sure you are old enough to comprehend the stakes. Do you understand?"

"Viserys, why do you insist on treating me like a child? If I am old enough to marry I am certainly old enough to make decisions for my welfare." her voice wavered the slightest bit. "Why did you not marry me to the Dothraki lord? You said yourself that we could raise an incredible army and thenceforth return to our homeland."

His eyes scanned hers, and then his hands slid up the sides of her body, over the cotton, and then dropped down onto his chest. "Well, now that's a very good question. I think its because we could make a better match for you. You are just beginning to become who you are going to become, and you could do far, far better."

"That seems probable." She said, her thoughts returning to what little she knew of the lords of Westeros.

He gently laid her down beside him on the bed so they could both be on their sides, gazing at one another.

"Are you excited about a new match?"

"Yes," Daenerys responded. "Though to tell the truth, I thought we might be married."

"I don't know if it's possible. We need to make a good match for both of us if we are going to have the army to take back Westeros."

He reached over and touched her soft cheek. He didn't know what he was feeling—attraction? Affection? He knew he felt love, for he had cared for her since she was just a babe. Close to grown, she was practically grown.

He sighed. Dorne would be a great start, but they would need to call even more banners. Who would he marry Daenerys to? Whoever he would be, he would need to have the backing of a huge army. The Lannisters were exceedingly wealthy, but they wanted the throne for themselves, and after Jaime Lannister had betrayed and slayed his lord father… Viserys blood boiled at the thought. The wolves would be good, though Viserys didn't know enough of them and their loyalty to hazard a guess where their true ties lay. Since they were descended from the First Men, there could be an angle there that would lead them to deny Targaryen supremacy. He gazed at his little sister and decided finally it would be best to talk with her about such things.

"We're sailing to Dorne. I might be married to Arianne, the princess of Dorne. I decided that I would rather cut ties to the free cities. I also could not stand to see you married. Yet."

"Like Rhaegar and Elia? You and Arianne?" She said remembering Viserys's tales of their older brother.

"I suppose. I've never seen her before." He said, yawning and stretching on the narrow bed.

"There is something to be said for a political marriage. It would be sad to think that there could never be any love, necessary though the match might be." Dany was hesitant in expressing her candor.

"What would you know about love?" he replied, raising an arch eyebrow.

"That's not a fair question." She said, knowing the game.

"Remember all the times you ran into my bed during stormy nights, or when you experienced troubled sleep?"

"What about it?" she asked. She was lying on her belly, her legs swinging idly in the air. Viserys chanced to look upon the area where the cloth met her full, rounded, womanly buttocks, and groaned, flopping over onto his stomach. He felt by turns embarrassed, inspired by his need.

"You're just a stupid girl, would you get off my bed?" he mumbled.

Stung, Dany left the bed, leaving a slight indentation from where she'd been, and went to the dressing screen to change to lighter clothes to lounge around in. Viserys took no notice, his thoughts and bodily hungers conflicting in the most enticing way. When Dany emerged, she was wearing a light, airy sleeveless gown that hung to the middle of her calves.

Viserys chanced to look over and groaned once again. She got into her twin bed and opened the book she'd been gazing upon earlier.


	2. Chapter 2

_I'm glad a few people like it. This is for you._

* * *

><p>Viserys was staring out of the window, lost in his memories. He remembered his father, cranky, railing against the world, distant— as though he were watching him from another room. He remembered his mother staring at his father with something like regret, even though, trying hard as he could, he never could make out her features, only the expression in them.<p>

He realized he had been clenching his fists, and his untrimmed fingernails had pierced the skin of his palms. He shook his hands and tried to forget, but it was, after all, a familiar feeling by now.

He heard the strains of a mandolin and his heart seemed to beat in time with the tempo of the heartrending music, the aftereffects of the emotional pain of moments before becoming less and less at the forefront of his mind. There was a piano too, and the soft strains of a voice flittering in and out of the music. It was sweet, like Daenerys when she trusted him completely. Frequently, when such thoughts arose, he remembered what she had looked like when she was just a toddler and was looking up at him her long-lashed violet eyes. They haunted him, even in his dreams, when he felt his stupid bloody hands hurting her, hurting her as he failed and failed to find people to bring him back, to make him whole, to put him on the iron throne.

Hurting her though, was uncalled for. He had never been strong enough to stop himself. And, in his darkest moments, he remembered that some small fragment of it had been sweet.

_She's just a child_. But he had had no real childhood either.

He was unhinged, he knew. He knew it in his bones, in his blood. Maybe he had already gone too far, past the point of no return, and there was no way of redeeming him—and if that was true, then whom could he hope for to save him, and how could he even aspire to hope? It took a leap of faith to make a change, and for Viserys, of all things he had ever forsaken in himself; it was an ability to aspire to be saved. It was sad, and the tears stung his eyes. It was almost as though his body was rebelling against him, against the revelations that came pouring out of him once he had a damning moment to consider the implications of who he was and what he had done.

He straightened his clothes and went over to the mirror. His customary clothes, looking as though he wore them still in Westeros, clung to his slender body. Lanks of platinum hair hung on either side of his face. He wondered, idly, if he still looked like his brother, even faintly. The blood on his palms had dried and he wiped it away.

He was just beginning to wonder what had happened to Daenerys when she meekly opened the door of their cabin and closed it behind her. She had left earlier with a maidservant and a bodyguard to explore the topside part of the ship. Her eyes glittered as she sat at the table in the room and helped herself to a few ruby red cherries.

Looking at her expectantly, he merely stood there.

"If you're been wondering where I've been," she began astutely, "I spent some time with Mari and Javius hearing some music in the great room. A band of musicians from Braavos amused us." Viserys drew himself to the bed and laid down on it again. He was tired, having more than once experienced a night where he frequently tossed and turned, his mind fixed on what their next stop would be once they landed in Dorne. In this scenario he felt very much like the older brother, as if he was supposed to somehow maintain some order, though Dany had not explicitly disobeyed him in any way.

And she was beautiful. She was allowed out some times, with a bodyguard, but it was better not to tempt fate, or the other patrons on the ship with a glimpse of her abundant beauty, though that might all be all for moot if one amongst them was willful enough to try to ensnare her.

But Dany was far more resourceful that she appeared at first glance, and Viserys took great comfort in that. Since she had arrived on the ship, she had done little else than try to sketch a game plan with him, and become absorbed in her little book _The Tides of Perdita Isle_, a title he now knew from seeing it so frequently.

"Will you have dinner with me? I have some things to go over."

"Of course," she replied. It was still a solid truth that Viserys had not often told her about the new country she was to be a princess in, and thereby how she might proceed.

"More will be brought in, but I thought we might eat some cheese and fruit."

Dany had no objection, having already helped herself to some cherries.

Viserys slid across from her, and idly picked up a cherry himself. He tossed it at her and she dodged it, playfully. When she smiled as she did, she was the little girl who had nestled in his arms during long carriage rides, the little girl who had blown her nose in the tissues he had proffered.

"Once we land we will be ushered to the water gardens, which is where Doran Martell will be awaiting us. There will be absolute secrecy surrounding our approach. Since we began our journey, the Baratheon king has been found dead and the land is currently awash in kings. Our existence is to be shrouded in secrecy until enough blood has been shed, and there are fewer kings in Westeros. It should only be a matter of time before we net enough allies to claim the iron throne for ourselves. But it is not safe until the fervor dies down. I did not travel all the way to Westeros, and survive all this time in the free cities, to be killed this close to sitting on my throne."

Daenerys was suitably impressed, though in her heart she was desirous of more details.

A fragment of a thought crossed her mind and she sat back, troubled.

"Assuming there are no hiccups, how do you plan on ruling, knowing that you might obtain the throne?"

"Well," Viserys replied, "I will continue to rule as my father did, and his ancestors before him. And I will crush the usurpers and all those who turned their backs on the Targaryens."

"On the surface that might sound good considering the enmity we share for our rivals and betrayers, but what of binding our homeland together? I would not shed more blood than is absolutely necessary."

"Do you mean—?"

"Forcing them over the point of a sword and making them swear their allegiance? If it comes to that, then yes. We must be cautious, for slaughtering the lords of the highest ranking families will not make them our friends."

"They slaughtered our brothers and sister, our mother and father, and you would forgive them?"

"If it meant us ruling for more than a few years, then yes. Once we have the iron throne, we must do our best to keep it, and keep peace throughout Westeros. Good law, good crops, and leniency will get one far." She said firmly.

"And what if they merely meant to swear allegiance to our faces and conspire behind our backs, hmm?"

"We will deal with that when it is necessary. It is important to show a strong front, and yet we will be ruthless when slighted, of course."

"Fine. I assume you will be at my right hand when all this occurs?" He looked at her with a smile, his voice mild.

She mirrored his smile. "If you'll have me." There was no other place she would rather be. A wife to some lord might cement Viserys claim, but she needed more than that to stimulate her mind—her potential had only to be unlocked, and it looked like her brother might oblige her.

She took a long look at her brother and was reminded how lucky she was to still have him as family—though he might treat her poorly, hound her, hurt her at times, in this moment, he was showing a different side, and she appreciated all that he could offer her. It was a notion born of optimism and innocence, and of the kindness he bestowed upon her for finally treating her as an equal in spite of the fact that he had raised her up from infancy. _He needs me_ she knew, and it seemed he was not taking her for granted.

When it came time to retire, Viserys went to the washroom across the hall. When he returned, Daenerys was already in bed. She had moved onto another book, this one being an encyclopedia of the types of trees in Westeros and along the coasts of the Free Cities (an addendum.) He changed into a nightshirt of emerald green behind the screen, leaving his clothes on the floor, in a heap, acknowledging that his maidservant would be picking them up later. Crossing the room, Viserys threw back the covers and got in.

The temperature was elevated, and muggy, which was not entirely disagreeable, but it made going to sleep harder, especially since their cabin lacked a good ventilation system, and no outside air.

Dany finished reading her book for the time being and blew out the candle on her nightstand.

The moonlight shining on the sea became the only light in the room, and subtle noise from the other patrons of the ship became a background noise.

Dany laid her hands on either side of her body on top of the covers and tried to will herself to sleep, to no avail. She did not need to look over to know that Viserys was having a hard time sleeping as well.

Viserys lay there, imagining sleeping with one of the maidservants. He could easily go downstairs and have his way with her, the one he called his, Lyderia, but was reluctant to make the rest of the people in his entourage leave. He did toy with the idea, however.

He was surprised when he saw Dany next to his bed, silhouetted in the moonlight.

"Could I sleep with you Viserys? I know I'm too old for such nonsense, but maybe we can fall asleep talking."

He nodded; half grudging her, half excited, and moved over to let her in. The bed was narrow, but just big enough for two people.

She wore a thin silk gown, Viserys saw, as she pulled the covers over her. He had to stifle a small groan behind a hand he drew over his mouth.

"I love you, Viserys," she said, putting a hand on his chest. He looked over at her, at her face half-illuminated by moonlight, her full lips drawn back into a simple smile, and this time he sighed in peace.

"I love you too, little one," he said, and drew her close into a hug. She hugged him back, her face tucked under his neck. The familiar scent of him was comforting: the fresh smell of lemons, and a musk hidden beneath it that was somehow tones of vanilla and something earthier.

Her long silvery hair lay on his belly, and Viserys idly picked it up and examined it. In the moonlight it was almost transparent, having the same qualities as the silvery white light. It was soft, and crinkled slightly when he squeezed a handful of it. He smoothed it back on his belly and relaxed, his hand beneath the pillow under his head.

"Viserys?" she said softly.

"Hmm."

"I always thought we would be married. Why would I have thought that?'

Being so much older than his sister, the implications of marriage weighed heavier on him, the ramifications daunting, and yet, strangely enticing.

"Dany, our family has breed brother to sister since Aegon the First flew to Westeros with his sisters on dragons. It has always been that way, to keep our blood pure, and our inherent qualities at the forefront. Do you remember our family words?"

"Blood and fire." She replied softly.

"Good. Every dragon should know that. You have the same qualities that Visenya and her sister possessed. You will have an elevated degree of heat that you can stand. Every true dragon has such." He smiled and lightly tapped her on her nose.

She sighed and closed her eyes.

Viserys put his arm around her waist and drew her close to him. Dany opened her eyes and realized his face was only a hairs breadth away from hers. Viserys eyes searched hers. She realized she was holding her breath.

When his lips lightly touched hers, it only happened for a second, and then he released her. They stared at each other, knowing what had happened. Dany lifted a hesitant hand and caressed her brother's platinum hair.

They looked at each other mutually, and then went to sleep, one hand under their pillow, the other resting on the comforter.


	3. Chapter 3

_They were getting close_.

The sailors and patrons alike were getting restless. Many of them had family in Dorne; others were seeking opportunity, some were fleeing the law. He had been informed of such by one of his bodyguards, man of Lys and Summer Islander descent by the name of Mysthan. When Viserys would deign to prowl the decks of the ship he chose to do so of his own accord, with bodyguards in tow. Clad in his customary Westeros wardrobe, rings of dragons on his fingertips, he would descend to the common room and sip from a cool glass of fragrant wine, watching the denizens of the ship talk, mingle and laugh. Sometimes Dany went with him, and he would witness the admiring glances and blank stares of the sailors, faintly hearing the whispers of their remarkable lineage.

During those times he would look over and Dany and wink at her, taking a languorous sip of whatever he was drinking. His actions always implied _"look how lucky we are, we are prince and princess even before we rule our people."_ It was the kind of attention, attached to the kind of future that he had been seeking for over a decade. And Dany would smile and slightly raise her eyebrows as though to convivially confirm his delight.

It all meant more with Dany by his side, he would think, taking another sip of his wine. Today was a day like many of those days, and Dany had just sat down next to him, in a corner of the common room at the approximate the time when the sun was just beginning to set, and vivid tones of tangerine, scarlet, and purple could be glimpsed through the numerous windows of the upstairs cabin.

Looking over at her he was pleased by what he saw: silver-gold hair loose past her shoulders, wearing a turquoise gown that changed the color of her eyes from violet to a deep cerulean.

Having seated herself at her brother's side, Daenerys mildly placed an order for a cheese and fruit plate from Mari and looked over at Viserys to see him raking her with an absorbing glance.

"Yes?"

"I think you look very nice tonight." He nodded to the other side of the room and commented that the music should be starting soon. He looked back at her and she could discern a sparkle in his eye.

"I am glad you are happy, brother. It has been too long since I have seen you happy." She smiled at him and noticed a goblet of tawny wine placed before her by one of his bodyguards.

"To think that my destiny could be so close at hand after so many false starts is genuinely satisfying to me." His blonde eyebrows were raised in a jubilant manner. Daenerys looked down at his plate and noticed his dinner—a half-eaten filet of steak, a medley of vegetables, and some grapes. Clearly he was eating well, which boded well for the night.

"What do you know of your bride, Arianne? Is she beautiful? Have you heard word of her humor?"

"Very little, to be honest." Viserys said, lapsing back into his seat. "I knew Elia as a little boy, and she was kind and good. If Arianne is like her aunt, she will be a good match."

In her most honest moments, Dany imagined her brother would be a terrible husband to a woman unused to his rages or his moods. She hoped for the best, as she always did, but from the way she had seen other women treated by her brother, she had witnessed the cold, cruel, demanding, and almost completely humorless side of his nature, which prevailed over most of his heart. Even though somehow she herself had found a way into his heart, she did not for an instant imagine that he would let anyone else besides his own blood in, as he was very much callously self-absorbed, and probably lacked the capability of accepting another person with the open-heartedness she herself possessed.

Knowing him as she did, it was difficult, especially when he was so obviously happy, not to hope for the best. She loved him as she loved the only member of her family remaining to her.

"Daenerys, what are you thinking?" He brought a hand up to her cheek. She realized she had tears in her eyes.

"I was just thinking of our mother," she lied. It was a good lie, and one that would shift his attention.

"Yes, I'm sorry she's gone too." He had blamed Daenerys for her death since he was eleven, but now it had been so long, and he had learned so much since then, that it was nigh impossible, especially since she was looking at him with those huge, trusting eyes.

"Do you remember anything about her?" Dany prompted.

He sighed and tried to think. "Well, she was beautiful. She had your coloring, I believe. But as I recall there was something very distant and resisting about her. Not with us, her children, but she never liked to be around father unless absolutely necessary."

"And yet she bore us all."

"Yes, she did her duty as the queen and as a Targaryen." Viserys agreed.

The cheese plate had been brought to the table and Dany tried one of the soft cheeses on the plate. She took a sip of her wine and savored the flavor.

"I like watching you eat," Viserys commented.

Dany blushed and put her wine down. She tried to imagine in what world her brother would have said that to her before, but lacked an answer.

"I have a hunger tonight," she replied, plucking a grape from her plate.

"I have too," he agreed and took a small sip from his own glass, one containing a tart yet savory red wine.

"Viserys, have you thought clearly about how long we must wait before we must make our move? It could take years for the moment to be right."

"Yes, you are right, but we should not discuss that here." He put a subtle end to that subject.

Clouds passed over the sun, and the darkening of the sky portended a violet sunset. Dany's eyes drank in the colors, and the shimmering of the light atop the rippling of the sea. The ship rocked subtly, as it always did, and for once, Dany's stomach did not roll over in the slightest. She nibbled more from her plate, and tasted once again of her wine, loving the flavor of the bursts of sweetness among the vivid citrus undertones. She lost herself in the succulent taste of the wine and the earthy piquancy of the cheeses, many of which tasted of flowers.

When she finally looked up, she saw her brother lost in his own plate, his eyes glassy with the taste of the wine, motioning for another glass from his man.

Idly, she wondered what he looked like beneath his tunic. She remembered his lean, hard torso from the many times he had disrobed in front of her over the years. Though he was years older than her, he still had the body of a youth, and was very slightly built. His nipples were like hers, pink, with hard tips.

He looked over at her and his lips parted in a toothy smile.

"What are you thinking?"

"Nothing, I was just enjoying my dinner. I have not had the opportunity to taste some of these cheeses before." This lie was not as good as the last one, and the blush surfacing on her cheeks accounted for that.

"Let me have some," he said, and took a small, hard hunk of cheese from her plate. He dropped the cheese into his mouth and grinned as it disintegrated onto his tongue.

"One good turn deserves another," she said, as she speared a piece of his meat with her fork. As it disappeared into her mouth, she saw Viserys grumble. She had never done such before, but she sensed it was an important move. She closed her eyes and savored the bloody taste of the meat.

"Mmm." When he saw her enjoying the morsel, Viserys relaxed and smiled.

After she swallowed, Dany smiled and timidly chastised him; "You should relax more, good brother."

"I … should," he murmured grudgingly. He returned to his plate with renewed appetite. Soon music filled the air, and laid its spell on the patrons. It was soft, classical in its appeal, and comforting.

After a while, Dany's plate was emptied, and more patrons started filtering into the room. She sensed it was time to go. She motioned to Mari and one of her bodyguards to follow her, and they followed her down to her cabin.

Once inside the doors, she dismissed them, and closed the door behind them. She sighed, feeling lovely with the addition of the food and wine she had enjoyed earlier. She lay on her bed with her hands on her stomach, closing her eyes.

It was not long before she heard Viserys opened and closing the door to their cabin. She wondered what he was thinking. They had grown close on their journey to Dorne.

"Oh, Dany I'm tired," he said loudly, stretching.

As though his stretch were infectious, Dany stretched as well, on the bed. If backs had expressions, hers would be sighing in relief. She had not taxed herself today, but it felt marvelous nonetheless. Hidden pins that Mari had applied to her hair were felt, and she released the enclosures from their hold, pooling them in a pile on her bedside table. Putting her hands through her hair, her fingernails raked through her long hair and she was able to relax almost completely. Now she only needed to dress for bed. She looked over at the screen and saw that Viserys was using it currently. She took another moment to stretch out, this time with her legs. Feeling a pleasant tingling, she then doubled her legs and massaged her toes, including the crevasses between, and the arch of her foot.

By the time Viserys emerged, his hair had been released from its side braid, and was hanging loose just above his collarbone. He wore a thin, white nightshirt. His eyes pierced through her like she was his prey. She blinked and went to the screen, where she was stopped by Viserys.

His hand reached for the bodice of her gown and he drew her to him. With his other hand he caressed her cheek, pushing the hair away from her face.

_All I ever wanted is here, _he thought.

The hand on her bodice slipped to her waist and crushed her to him as he brought his hand behind her neck and pressed his hot, thin lips to her cool, full, lush ones.

Daenerys found herself surrendering to his kiss, her lips burning as they melded with his. A fragment of a thought unburdened itself in her, a feeling that had been harming her, haunting her, that was relinquished when she felt him clinging to her like she was a prayer and he a priest.

Every moment passed like an eternity as the kiss commenced. It had taken many nights strung together like beads on a necklace to evolve into this, and their union felt like a completely strange movement that had been woven into the unexpected perfection of sudden passion. Dany's arms were locked around his neck. She broke her hold, having been on tiptoe to kiss him, and gazed up at him.

His eyes were hungry, but his pulse was calm. As time lengthened, he took a deep sigh and his entire being relaxed.

"You are special. Why it took me so long to realize it is only another example of my ignorance. But it's as though you've taught me how to become a person, and not just a symbol of a greater cause. You make me want to sing, Dany. You are magic— a true dragon. You daze me, and I hunt you and fear you." His voice was husky, and he extracted another kiss from her breathless lips. He deepened the kiss with his tongue, and Dany felt his tongue feel so strange she wanted to giggle and cry out at the same time.

The piano, played softly from above, was discerned as Dany felt her body caressed, his hands moving over the soft fabric that clung to her back and hips. The moon hung in the sky outside the cabin window, the beckoning light silvery amongst the warm light of the lit candles of the room. They swayed, almost like they were dancing.

"Is this dancing?" She asked.

"I don't know if I've ever danced before," he admitted, his eyes half open, long silvery lashes illuminated as he looked down on her.

She laughed. "Viserys this is wrong. That we're doing this is..."

He smiled a sad smile, as though he had wanted to do this all along, and had been simply waiting for the right time to commit the crime.

Her skin was warm beneath his, perfect curves where he expected them, his, his, his, all over again, inside and outside of him, within and without him. He felt like he should be sprouting wings he felt so exuberant.

Leading her to the bed, he sat next to her and gave her a light kiss on her bared shoulder, kissing where her smooth skin met and melded into arm, back, and neck. Sighing, she turned her neck and watched him, his closed eyes, almost as though he was worshiping her. Picking up her arm, he pressed tiny kisses against her skin, savoring each one as though her skin tasted of the sweetest fruit. When he got to her hand, he put it against his and marveled at their likeness.

"I remember when you were just a child." He said, sighing. The change in the air was palpable.

He said the words so she didn't have to. "I resented you." His eyes met hers in an ensuing confession. "You were baggage I had to lead around. An infant crying for a mother you had never known."

"I was very bad to you, wasn't I?" His eyes pierced through her, seeing her, realizing the truth even just only as he was uttering it.

Downcast, her eyes told everything. When she looked back up at him, her tears glistened, reflecting the silvery moonlight as though an extraordinary light were within her, and was emanating out of her through the portals of her soul.

"I really am so bad for all that." He concluded, almost not wanting to touch her again.

"But you—you are different, aren't you." The words were a statement, rather than a question.

"I'm spoiled, having you around. I keep you close because I realize what a treasure you are. What's truly special about you, Dany, are the very things that are not special about me." He looked down at his hands. They had taken of her, humiliated her, degraded her, and even now sought to make her his. They reached for her, and she remained, feeling his hands on her, her eyes closed.

Darkly, and with intent he seized her, long sinewy muscles wrapping around her like she was a rabbit and he a snake.

He kissed her, and when she opened her mouth she did not taste the same, not like sunshine and flowers and vanilla, but like chalk and burning limestone. He kissed her breasts, having pushed away the flimsy cloth, and suckled of her.

She held her breath and felt pleasure, even as it was taken of her and she felt as though she were on a cloud, witnessing it all, far away.

Viserys looked at her and understood what must be going through her mind. He wiped away his tears and straightened her gown and sat up. Daenerys sat up once again, also wiping tears away.

Her breasts had tasted good, but he tried to push that thought away. "I'm sorry," he said, "I'm sorry I treated you that way, for all those years, and I can't take that away. Those memories are permanent." He looked at her and then wiped his leaking nose.

"Can you forgive me? Am I worthy of forgiveness?" His voice cracked, and he started sobbing.

Some part of Dany wanted for him to suffer, to suffer long and hard, to watch her receding back as she galloped away into the distance, never to return. And then she realized that she already had forgiven him.

And so she turned him slowly toward her. She merely looked at him, evaluating him, absorbing at the lost, lonely look in his eyes. She did not pity him, as she was not wont to do so.

He embraced her, and the force of his embrace brought them back on the bed.

Yet still there was that element hanging in the air, of the mutual loathing each had for themselves, of giving in to it, and of seeing things in the other person that made each loathe themselves all the more.

Viserys came from a different experience level—having made love with slaves and women in brothels, he was more experienced in the principles of sex, and yet he was calculating enough to know that the act changed everything. Dany was completely innocent, his instrument, a beautiful woman who was only just beginning to unveil her potential. She was smarter than he, and yet he held the power over her, enraging him, exciting his tendencies. And yet for being his instrument, she was playing him rather well—she held all the power, for in this moment he was merely a man who wanted a woman—and the woman was a dragon, a princess, and maybe a queen.

_Can I stop myself?_

She looked angelic, belying what had happened only minutes earlier. He wanted to ravage her, to make her squirm beneath him, to sigh his name. But he could not, not until she desired it of him. He could extract kisses, the occasional lingering touch, but no more, not unless she requested it of him.

Dany watched him restrain himself. He bit his lips and she found herself aching with hunger, on the cusp. She pressed a finger to his lips, and watched the flickering flame become a full-fledged fire beckoning in his lilac eyes.

Her eyes followed the line of his shoulder as she shrugged his nightgown down. He was slender beneath the fabric, but there was muscle there too. His lilac eyes pulsed as he watched her, but he made no move to touch her.

She kissed his neck with hesitant lips; it was her first move to initiate, and she felt foolish and foolhardy. Yet whatever it was, she desired it of him.

With two hands she brought the nightgown sliding down over his body. It took her a moment to summon the strength to lift his nightgown beyond his hips (which he lifted for her) past his long legs and his feet. His body was bare before her. She sat back, the nightgown wadded in her hands. Dusky lavender eyes meeting his, she tossed the garment away. Viserys shivered, his sex pulsing. She had never witnessed him more enticing in his raw vulnerability and his palpable power over her.

She stood back, and put her hands on her body, her fingertips experimentally brushing the sides of her breasts, the full arching curve of her waist, and finally down to the yielding skin of her thighs. Reaching down, she pulled the hem of the dress over her head and dangled it away from her body before she daintily dropped it on the floor.

The only cloth barrier left was her undergarments, a single pair of lacy white panties. Her thumbs hooked on either side of her hips and tugged the barrier down her creamy thighs. Her breasts lifted with each breath as she straddled Viserys. Waves of silvery hair streamed past her shoulders as she looked down upon him. She blinked.

Not knowing what precisely what was supposed to happen next, and yet deciding she did not want to relinquish control, Daenerys experimentally took his organ in her hands and examined it. She saw its rounded head, the shaft, the balls, and looked up at him in anticipation.

Viserys groaned and reached for her shoulders, kissing her.


	4. Chapter 4

_A/N: Just wanted to give a shout-out to my readers! Thanks for the reviews. I recognize this story is beyond the realm of normal, but I appreciate the leap of faith._

* * *

><p>Light shone through the windows, a lively, lemony color bright with fresh promise. Seagulls dove low and fished the morning's breakfast from the waters of the sea. The sound of waves crashing against the ship was a relaxing, omnipresent reminder of their surroundings. And his fingers looped perfectly through hers.<p>

"What am I supposed to do with you?" Dany said, her voice husky.

Viserys smiled and continued playing with the curved ends of her fingertips. "Fuck me again, I hope." He pulled her up and pressed his lips to hers, so she was squarely on top of him. Her feet tickled his calves. He deepened the kiss, wanting to taste the back of her teeth; he savored the flavor of her so dearly. Viserys cupped her buttocks with his free hand and sighed against her mouth with pleasure at the rounded heaviness he found there. The thought occurred to him that she was so filled with beauty that it would be impossible to count the ways he intended on spending himself with her. However, beauty was the only quality she could boast, she was also strong and elegant… like silk knots.

"What's that?" she said, looking down in mock amazement.

He groaned. "Evidence of your beauty. And my greed." The last part was begrudgingly true, much to his chagrin.

He didn't know if he would ever grow tired of the way she was looking at him; with newfound trust, with love, a sprinkling of lust, and a great deal of admiration. Well, more than a sprinkling of lust, he admitted to himself with a touch of pride.

"I love you," she said, cupping his chin and kissing him on the lips like a lover. Amidst the physical stimulation of coupling, a daze had settled over both of them. His lilac eyes were smoky with regard.

She gently moved herself to his right side, becoming silhouetted by the morning sun.

The fog of sex had clouded her senses, making her every movement feel at once incredible with the physicality of her situation, and dazed with the depth of her feeling for it. Somehow the feeling of even simply laying against someone, and feeling their breath on her hair, especially if that person had dedicated hours the night before to pleasing her, was simply the most irresistible sensation she had ever had the delight to experience. Ah, Viserys. And yet, with his name came countless connotations that floated before her, like a child tugging on her skirts.

_Viserys?_ Compounding her mental wariness, a consummate diplomacy reigned over her senses. It did not take long for such a thought to illuminate the path her future was deigned to take. It was sobering, this realization.

Her weakness for her brother's pain, and the attraction of sex had miraculously changed her relationship with Viserys. And Viserys grandiose plan of marrying himself to Arianne would endure more than a shiver of a hiccup due to his tryst with the trueborn princess of Westeros. She drew herself up, bringing the sheet up to cover her breasts. Viserys frowned a little, wanting to nab the sheet away so he could enjoy the sight, but it was easy to tell a change in the air was afoot, and so he relaxed and drew himself against the headboard, adjusting the pillows to support his back.

"My maidenhead has been stamped with the Targaryen seal, as it were." She almost laughed, if it didn't seem so absurd. "So I ask you—I am conferring with you—what dictum should we follow?"

"Dany—" For a moment he wished she was still just his little sister so he could simply pat her on the head and tell her everything was going to be all right. And he might have been tempted to do so… if everything in his blood did not sing for her. He foresaw that honesty would be the best way of addressing her current concern.

"I did not expect to feel for you the way… in some strange vision of the future, I always saw you as my bride, but I have to say, you have engulfed more of myself than even I think proper." He sighed, saying the words with some effort. "I love you. I could never imagine being with another person the way I am with you now. Though I know I shall regret saying this later, the idea of another man touching you drives me mad."

"A little background for my ambitious sister: Martell has always aspired for vengeance against the Lannisters for the death of Elia, a fact I fondly take delight in. The Lannisters are the ones to worry about, being as wealthy, resourceful, and cunning as they are. One of Tywin's children killed our father, and that blood debt must be repaid. The Targaryens and Martells have more than the recent decade to account for the past we have together.

Revenge is the appetite that needs to be satisfied and power is the way to do it. The marriage of myself to his daughter is only one of the minor links in the chain that should complete the bond we have between us. Martell, as every loyal subject of Westeros knows, recognizes that a true Targaryen always mates brother to sister, and that being our familial and kingly right, he will allow it. Especially when he perceives how smart you are, and what an asset to our cause.

There is no way to predict what might happen between the proposed union and now. Therefore, it shall be proposed, but until then, you shall be the maiden—Gods if I had not been so greedy—the maiden you were up until last night. Keep your wits about you. This shall all remain secret until it is advantageous to bind you and I in marriage."

"Viserys—what you have not mentioned yet is that you might need my marriage to a prominent lord to cement your army and your claim to the throne."

"I might agree with you if I didn't know how useful you are at my side, and at no one else's."

She blinked and considered his words.

"You are proposing I be your consort alongside Elia—as a queen."

He nodded his affirmation. "Our dragon blood is second to none, as father was wont to say. You are mine, and you shall bear my legitimate children."

Swimming, her head was, and if she had expected to catch her brother off-guard, then she was sadly mistaken, for he had more knowledge than she did about the tidings they could expect in their homeland. She turned, still clad in the sheet on the bed. Triumph over the usurpers who had stolen her father's throne had been drilled into her skill set as soon as she was able to interpret the words, and born from that was the instinct that the most powerful way to accomplish that task would obviously be as queen. Assuming everything went according to plan (which she knew well enough happened less often than one desired) one of her chief tasks would be to temper Viserys reign with reason and compassion. Hesitation guided her next thoughts, as she inwardly railed against becoming Viserys wife.

Flashes of past and present—her brother torturing her, twisting her nipple, hurting her, him welcoming her begrudgingly into his bed after a night of restless dreams, him demanding she not waste his time, him falling into her, worshipping her—it all seemed like facets of a diamond preyed upon by light. _What have I done?_ She could not imagine what had possessed her to share her brother's bed. Hormones, the right touch—the obvious influence he had over her, and his will to control her destiny probably all had integral parts to play in their sensual games. She had not treasured her innocence until it had come at the cost of having an unlikely lover on her hands.

Portentious thoughts paraded before her of complicated scenarios and unexpected foils. Viserys was callous, foolish, and vain. And yet he loved her. Casting her eyes at her brother, she wondered if she really could take care of him. He was beautiful, as she well knew. His beauty was slender, careful, and extraordinary, with accents of lilac and platinum. With his height, his commanding stare, and his standoffishness, he looked every inch a prince, if not a king.

"Viserys—"

As if he knew what she would say, Viserys disentangled himself from the covers and crawled over to her on his hands and knees. He looked up at her through his silver brows. Closer and closer his face appeared, until he softly nuzzled her nose with his. Dany gasped in relief and surprise. A smile lingered on her lips as she stoked errant strands of his hair, and combed them down. He looked very good once she had tucked his hair into all the right places.

"Dany, Dany, Dany," he murmured into her ear, his breath warm and slightly moist.

He gathered her hands in his and kissed the tops of them, as though he worshipped her. She closed her eyes and lapsed back on the bed. It seemed that was precisely what Viserys wanted, for he laid belly down on the narrow bed and began playing with her breasts.

Last night seemed like a dream.

Moisture glistened on the top of his upper lip—the first time he had entered her, she had cried out. The pain was a slight, wincing sensation. Stopping when he heard her, he put his own extenuated pleasure on hold. Light eyes with moonlight trapped in his irises had looked down on hers and she glorified in him, breathing deeply. Even measured against all her principles and her pride, she still didn't want him to stop. Godlike in her ecstasy, the sensation ached in a delicious way, like she was at the precipice of so much more pleasure to come. He had continued, pushing himself further. Dany did not need to see his face to see the obvious pleasure there.

As they coupled, she arched her back and stretched out her long limbs; their shared ecstasy brought them together in a way that no fight or reconciliation had. When he moaned and gave her everything he had, she recognized in that instant that what it felt like with him was akin to how it would be with no one else.

Awakening back to the present moment, a light bite on the underside of her breast and she was able to focus once again on the rather wicked job her brother was commencing.

_It's when you have everything that you can lose everything…_

Now when he was like this, playing with her breasts, making them flushed, making her squirm, some part of her wanted to bat him away like he was her brother, and half ached for something rather more depraved.

When she crossed the room to put on some clothes, he chased after her.

"Dany, where are you going?"

"Only to put on some clothes, my sweet." She adopted the nickname in an instant, and was grateful when Viserys looked pleased.

He put hand on the wall above her head. "I like it. My sweet. A delicate touch."

She smiled.

He gently entwined her in his arms, pressing kisses against her neck, delineating a line down her clavicle, past her flushed breasts, to her belly. Part of her wanted to push him away… if only the sensation wasn't so delicious… His platinum head descended to her nether regions.

"Oh," she moaned in surprise.

After a few moments, he murmured something, but Daenerys was only distantly listening.

He stood to his proper height and looked down at Dany.

"What was that?" she asked breathlessly.

"I'm full of surprises. You'll just have to find out." He smiled, and when he bent down to kiss her once again, she tasted herself on his lips. Cheerfully, he went about putting on some clothes.

* * *

><p>Later that evening, she was bracing herself on the railing of the starboard side of the ship, watching the waves crash as the ship swiftly passed them. Should she have chanced to bend over the railing at the tail end of the ship, she would have seen their trail as no more than two manmade waves arching from the tail-end of the ship, <em>Native Wind<em>. The sun was lower in the sky, portending the time to be around five o'clock. It was getting cooler, the closer they came to Westeros, and her customary silk garments, though warm, would have to be layered as the ship sailed to its destination.

A pair of hands covered her eyes, and she wheeled around to see who it was, thinking imminently of the small blade of dragonglass she kept sheathed beneath her clothes. His hands came up is a sign of casual surrender, and Viserys took a few steps back and smiled. He had almost resorted to taunting her for being jumpy.

She gave him a smile that said: "_you are something else."_

Looking down at her from his height, Viserys desired a kiss from her curving lips; she looked so pretty with her secretive smile at his antics, but he knew it was safer to substitute a cool demeanor. He gestured to the common room, as though requesting her presence for dinner. She took the hint and nodded, and they walked closely side by side, their guards following a few steps behind.

Quiet, was their dinner. For her walk around the ship, Dany had opted for a pale pink ensemble that she considered appropriate. A passerby would have commented that the color brought out the flawlessness of her complexion. The neckline was in the shape of a obtuse upside down triangle, and the barest hint of her shoulders could be glimpsed. Her sleeves were swathes of the same petal-pink silk, and the rest of her outfit descended into a fitted shirt and loose silk pant legs. Viserys wore a grey-green fitted jacket and pants, his feet clad in grey-brown leather boots. Other patrons were similarly dressed, in well-designed outfits of luxurious fabrics, but Viserys and Daenerys stood out for their similar hair. Every once in a while there was a look directed at one or the other.

Later on, as they were sitting down to supper, Dany looked up at Viserys, who held a fork and was chewing a bite, but somehow, when he looked at her and snickered, it was intimate, even delightful. She looked back down at her plate and pushed her food around. There wasn't very much left, as she had eaten her fill.

A thought crossed Dany's mind and she felt she needed to say it.

"Forgive me for saying, but having a degree of honesty with you is rather wonderful."

He just blinked a few times. He seemed faintly bemused.

Do you like other people?" she probed.

"Hmm. Not really, no. Besides the people who have genuinely helped me over the years, I have little fondness for anyone. Save you."

A light peachy color bloomed in her cheeks. "Due to…?"

"The years of traveling. Begging." The last word sounded grating to the ear. Unexpectedly, he quickly drained the rest of his wine glass.

The intoxicating effect of the wine soon swam in Viserys eyes, and he had to resist the urge to pinch the profoundly cute blush on her cheeks. "You are quite lovely when you're blushing at my antics." He said.

"Stop it," she said, half-joking.

"Do I have to?" he groaned. He was already looking forward to tonight. One of the bodyguards stepped forward to refill his goblet. He reached forward with dragon-eyed rings on his long fingers.

"Drink up," he encouraged, taking a sip of his wine. It was a light crystalline hue tonight, the freshest and fairest of the tawny wines selected for the voyage.

She merely lifted one hand delicately off the table and placed it on Viserys leg.

His lilac eyes widened, and he looked down at her hand and at her, as though he were pleasantly aghast.

'May I ask you another question?"

"Of course, my darling. But first I have a question for you."

Dany tilted her head slightly to one side.

"You know how I feel about you. You're obviously the prettiest thing I or anyone else on this ship has ever seen. You have proven yourself. Your attributes precede you. Now, my question is, what can you possibly see in me?"

The question was so off-putting it was precisely the question of the moment. Daenerys didn't know what to say. It was obvious, and when she decided to extricate the idea, it flowed beautifully.

"Viserys. You and I have no illusions about the past. I could reiterate it now, but it is not the time or the place, and it would just be rehashing things. You and I both know what happened. Last night you told me you were sorry. And if I remember correctly, I forgave you.

My brother, you are the one who has decided our fate. We are together in this as two castaways sailing toward an uncertain future. That has decided our predicament to a certain degree. Besides that, I love you. I will always have a soft spot in my heart for you. I hope that you will not abuse that trust, or make me regret the things I say tonight."

She removed her hand from his leg.

"That is not to say we should not have boundaries, or that we should procede on this love affair as though we throw our fate to the wind. Therefore I insist, that despite mutual attraction, for I must confess I feel it too, that we should desist immediately."

"But I have told you I love you," Viserys blurted out. "I am going to make you my queen…"

"There is no way to predict that happening—I feel this too, make no mistake. I'm trying to do the responsible thing."

"Shouldn't I have that privilege? After all, I am the elder here."

"Look where thinking with our body parts and not our heads has landed us. I am no longer a maiden, and your marriage with Arianne for all intensive purposes is soiled."

He narrowed his eyes and crossed his arms. He looked very much like a little boy, Daenerys mused to herself. Viserys considered their surroundings, the plate before him.

Snapping his fingers, he willed the bodyguards to come at once. He reached for Dany, who supplied her hand, and they descended to the decks below.

"Viserys," she said breathlessly, once the door had shut behind them.

Arching toward her, Viserys put his hands a distance from either side of her face, towering over her with his height.

"And what was that, my dear?" He asked, then grabbed her around the waist and brought her to the bed. Sprawled out, Dany realized that somehow, Viserys had obtained a bigger bed. For the two of them.

Just as he was about to lunge for her, Dany brought up a hand and asked him to stop.

Suddenly a flash of their parents struck Viserys, and he saw his mother, Queen Rhaella, swearing at his father, just outside their bedchamber, telling him to stay away from her. He remembered her eyes finding her little son's, and telling him it would be alright. In that moment, King Aerys pushed her through the door and slammed it behind him.

"We know not what games we play," he uttered softly. He sat next to his sister with a semblance of geniality.

She pushed him away yet again and sighed. She looked so pretty, perplexed in her pale pink ensemble, her hair only slightly mussed. Her lips were pink too. Her violet eyes searched his and found something there she liked, for she smiled at Viserys as though to bring some peace into his mind.

"Please, Dany," he murmured softly, knowing she would know what he meant.

"It will hurt again?" Only the inflection of her voice decided it was a question.

Once again, Viserys's mouth dropped open. Womanly, wise well beyond her years, and yet still a little girl, Daenerys defied his expectations again and again. He searched his mind for an answer.

"I don't…. think it will hurt like it did the first time. I'm sorry for hurting you."

"Your passion never hurts me the way you think it does."

Viserys groaned and pushed her down on the bed. Her hair sprawled out like a fan. He kissed her.

"No…" Mouth on hers, tongue touching hers.

"….It should feel…" He pushed her blouse down, her breasts spilling out.

"…very good." He purred, claiming her mouth again. Daenerys pushed off his trousers, her fingers un-notching the buttons for him. Soon enough, Viserys had ripped off her silk pants, and her top was wadded down her waist.

True to his mysterious promise earlier that day, Viserys gifted her with a wicked look and slid down her lithe body, leaving a trail of kisses that ended rather fabulously on the mound between her legs. Due to his time in the pleasure dens of Pentos, Viserys had requested and been granted the secret to truly pleasuring a woman. He had some idea that the knowledge would be valuable, and now he thanked the seven for his forethought. Daenerys was squirming beneath him, sighing and making all sorts of intriguing sensual noises.

"Do you like that?" he asked, his voice vivid among the sensations she was feeling.

"Yes," she replied, her voice barely there.

Before she knew it, they were one once again.

* * *

><p><em>Don't admit you want more... oh no. The travails of these characters are stationary... right? It would be impossible to turn off your computer screen and forget you ever read this chapter... right? Hahaha. Review, darn you.<em>


	5. Chapter 5

_A/N: I was just reading over my story… and whoa. It's __**quite**__ mature, isn't it? Hmm. This stuff just keeps tumbling out of my head. I reread the story this morning and was unable to get it out of my head. It was kind of strange, since I had the reciprocation of my energy floating back at me through the pages_

_And by the way… thank you very much to those of you who have reviewed. Especially Drakulina, Imperial Dragon, Jasminxoxx and the signed users who have added my story or myself to their favorites. Thank you._

__

He woke up and stretched. When he rolled over and saw Dany, her lips slightly parted in sleep, he shivered a little in happiness. Long silvery dark lashes caressed her lower lids, a faint blush resided on her cheeks, and her lips were parted in the gradual intake and outtake of breath that sleep conveyed. He decided in that moment to have a bath arranged in their quarters. It would take the bodyguards lugging in a bathtub and having the ladies fill it, but such trouble was negligible. The tub would probably stay in their quarters until they landed in Dorne.

Moon tea. Yes, they would have to factor that into Dany's diet.

He made the arrangements, getting dressed and letting his men know what was going to occur. He made sure that Dany was draped in the coverlet whenever the bodyguards were finally were able to bring the beast of a tub in, and that furthermore they were quiet about it. Dany awoke with the tub partially filled and steaming with freshly boiled seawater.

"What?" Her hair was beautifully mussed.

"Darling," he went over to her and sat next to her on the bed. He laid a dozen tiny kisses on her forehead and hair.

"Darling," he said again. He held her in his arms and she was slightly aback from him, and there was this delicious distance between them, as though she was unaccustomed to his embrace, and he was preoccupied with how pleasing she felt. He tilted her chin up and swept his lips over hers and she relinquished the cool pressure of her sleepy mouth.

One of the lady servants knocked and came in, her movements orchestrated to the pivotal action of tipping a full bucket of water into the tub.

Before Daenerys could ask him what was going on, he launched into a sentence.

"Bathe?" It was a short sentence.

"What—together?"

"Why, yes, if you would like."

Daenerys had always been fond of bathing, and such a luxury had been hard to find of late. If her brother had the inclination, she was desirous of obliging.

"Yes, that sounds lovely." She said. Dany leaned against him, and caught a few more moments of relaxation as she tipped her head onto his shoulder. He was slender, but his shoulders were cushioned by a layer of muscle that made it easy for her to nestle in.

"Dany—" he said, sliding her further down his arm so he could look at her.

"Hmm?" Her eyes opened drowsily, dreamily.

Words were unnecessary. The way he was looking at her, slightly concerned, was the way a lover would look at his beloved, tempered with the experience and time it had taken for them to understand one another.

Mari slipped out of the room, the only indicator she had been there at all being the quiet _thump_ of the door. It was enough to jar Daenerys out of the sleepy mood she'd been in.

"I, um, last night… we shouldn't have." The words were fumbling, and sounded insipid to her ears. She wondered what would have possessed her to say such a statement, when they both knew what game they were playing. Stupid girl.

"Shh." He put a finger to his lips in the primordial gesture of silence. Daenerys breathed out slowly.

Slowly, her hand reached out and took his, and she smiled and squeezed it. It was childlike and yet exquisitely comforting.

Another of her maidservants knocked on the door and stole inside, emptying yet another large pail of water into the tub. Viserys caught the girl's attention and gave her the cue to stop. When he turned back to Dany, Viserys eyes transformed from being flinty and cool to the relaxed expression of moments ago. It demonstrated the change she had seen already—his charged aggression interlaced with an edge of attraction had become strangely forgotten as he lost himself in her, replaced with a sense of comfort and strength.

Tumbling down over her shoulders and onto his arms, Viserys looked down at his sister through her cascade of hair and saw a dozen things flickering behind her eyes, none of it comprehensible to him. All he could discern was the way she felt in his arms: light, like a feather, yet solid and firm.

Her eyes dilated, focusing on the way the light was cast over his features. He was complicated, this man. Stranger, strange man, who she loved for his being there with her—was that the only reason she had? It seemed that her feelings for him changed and yet remained the same, like the very water they were sailing on. _Will he be my undoing_?

His eyes appeared closer, coming closer.

His eyes looked just like hers.

She gasped and struggled a little. He laughed jovially and squeezed her slightly. "Where do you think you're going?"

She swallowed. "Nowhere."

"Yes, exactly. Except right where I want you."

Dany's eyes widened ever so slightly in confusion, disliking his terms and the far-reaching connotations of them. It wasn't just her bed she had welcomed him into, it was very nearly the reins of her life. He who had hurt her. Almost sold her. On a deeper level, Daenerys recognized that he scarcely knew himself without hating himself, and since that was true, that he was in no place to love her or be responsible for her in any way. Blood drained from her face, leaving the cool remnants of her silky skin without any pallor to sustain it. Her heart started hammering in her chest.

"Why you're like a little bird, aren't you? What's wrong?"

"Nothing's wrong."

But Viserys was truly shocked at the change in his sister. She had turned into a shivering, frightened creature right before his eyes. In his arms. Something about the last part grated on his nerves. Stunningly calm, he reacted in a way that was true to his feelings.

Softly, as though he were asking a child. "Are you ok?"

She twitched her head from side to side, still quiet and shivering.

_Flashback_ of him holding her on his lap years ago at one of their first residences; it was in a port city outside Braavos, and it was right after he had been told by one of the servants that he and his sister needed to move on, a callous, calculating betrayal that was relayed through a terrified stranger. At the time he was sixteen, she six. In a youthful hormonal rage he had erupted into a tirade, walking around their quarters, waving his arms, shouting at their plight, not caring if his hosts heard. That day she had her long tumbling hair tied back in a bow, and wore a sunshine yellow dress, the color of the ribbon in her hair. Such a good child, even if she did ask too many questions.

Viserys remembered that moment of desperation, of scheming to go elsewhere—anywhere really— in search of the kind of security that would protect and bind. All of his tumultuous feelings and emotions were compounded by the fact that he had a child to look after—and then he looked over at her and saw her shivering like a little ghost.

And so he had scooped her up with false bravado, put her in his lap, and twinkled as he lied about how they were going to live in another magic castle once he had secured their passage.

_Even now, am I taking her to a magic castle that will make our dreams come true? _

"Come, the bath is getting cold." He stood and gestured to the bath.

Numb, was the look she gave him. When she walked over to the tub, the sheet that had covered her fell to the floor, still half attached to the bed. She got into the hot bath with nary a second glance and sat down. Viserys sat down next to her outside the tub; drawing a stool close to they could be approximately eye level.

"The seven—" he cursed when he accidentally touched the water. Too fucking hot. Almost burned his hand. And yet his sister was sitting in it, completely docile. He blinked several times in surprise. Her hair floated on the top of the water, and she was mildly staring forward. He cast away his surprise. He would find answers later.

"Whatever you're feeling, Dany… don't punish me. We're in this together, remember?"

As if a twig snapped, Daenerys woke up out of her daze. "What are we in, together? This life? I'm afraid of you. You're in control, as you always are, and I feel like I'm dying inside because I can't… I can't be myself with you so near."

Cooling, his feelings burned with the flavor of her words. "Is that how you feel?"

"Viserys— I can't."

Dany almost bit her lip, but she had meant it, so her body language remained the same.

"I can't fault you for the way you feel." His words sounded hollow but they felt right.

Dany took a moment to think about it, and cast her eyes down.

"Dany. Please look in my eyes."

With but a flicker of her eyelashes, she looked over at him, beyond the curtain of her hair.

"I didn't know life could feel so good until these last few days. Give it some time."

Her eyebrows knotted together. Her first compunction was to deny him, but as she looked at his entreating glance, his lilac eyes pleading, she knew she could not deny him.

"Of course." She said, her eyes fluttering as she looked down again.

"But I mean it this time… no more… love until…" her words failed her.

"… You deem it necessary. I swear." Suddenly all he wanted to do was kiss her, to thank her for her trust, but of course…

Viserys left her to bathe, and went to the bed, where he stripped himself of his clothes and threw the covers over himself, in the hopes that he could at least catch a few more hours of sleep, even though his joints, as though they were part of his inner turmoil, now ached.

Daenerys took a moment for herself before retrieving the soap and using it to cleanse her arms and legs. She had not chanced to miss him stripping himself off his clothes.

Something about the attraction she had for Viserys caused her to feel a certain quickening of her pulse, especially when he was taking off his clothes.

Dany turned back to her bath, almost, but not entirely aghast at the contradictory messages she was enabling herself to think. She scrubbed herself and hoped that she would understand her senses and herself the next time such a thing occurred. Love and hate and sexual attraction—were they all part of the same cycle?


	6. Chapter 6

"_Come here." He said as he sat on the bed, his hand beckoning._

_Violet eyes cast in the half-sunlight of the afternoon followed his hand. She walked closer, her movements sure and graceful._

_Viserys's shoes were on the floor next to his feet. Silk clad, Dany stood before him in a cloud of whispering opaque mauve. A gentle sea breeze stole through the slitted window of the cabin.  
><em>

_Daintily, she put a leg on either side of him so she was relaxed and sitting in his lap, gazing down upon him, her breasts before his face, within hands reach. His eyes on hers, he gingerly brought his hands around her, feeling the arching curve of her ribcage as it descended into her waist. He ran his thumbs along her sides._

_Coolly her eyes measured him, acknowledging what she wanted._

* * *

><p>When they docked on the shores of Dorne, it was a beautiful day. There was a certain crispness in the air that belied the achingly hot sands that covered the bay. Scarlet and orange were the colors that streaked across the sky, pervading the skyscape. A large promenade was there to receive them, as though they were of a prominent family, if not the Targaryens themselves. Daenerys and Viserys wore scarves over their hair, for all intensive purposes looking like ordinary if affluent citizens of the free cities descending from their ship for a visit. The Targaryen retinue carried their bags and brought them to the coach where they would be whisked away to the Water Gardens.<p>

Once inside the coach, the Targaryen siblings found they had company. Quentyn Martell, Doran Martell's son was already reclined in the coach on the opposite side. He gave them a rudimentary smile.

"Who are you?" Viserys asked, his voice accusatory.

"Prince Quentyn Martell of Dorne. My lord father's second born, and his only son." He bowed his head, hoping that his words would sound well enough. Once they had situated themselves and looked forward at him with their piercing eyes, he had to admit, they were quite striking; regal and statuesque even without seeing their tell-tale platinum hair. Viserys gave him a glance that absorbed his dress and his looks. Similarly, Daenerys look had the same intent but a different and more sophisticated effect, looking more as though she were simply gazing at him.

"You can take off the scarves. Relax. We won't be there for a number of hours." Quentyn slid closed the curtain he had used to see them disembarking from the _Native Wind_.

Viserys and Daenerys looked at one another. It had taken more than a moment to secure their scarves, and there was a fraction of doubt between them that they could secure the scarves again as well as had been done the first time.

"I'm going to have to insist, as I want to make sure you're the real thing." Quentyn murmured, his voice possessing a hint of steel to it.

Wordlessly, the scarves were removed, and light locks tumbled down. Viserys shook his head slightly, as his hair was not as heavy as his sister's, and he brushed it down.

Once her hair was down, it was beyond a doubt that the princess Daenerys was the most beautiful young woman Quentyn had ever chanced to see. The prince was very good-looking too, but most certainly not who he was most interested in. Perhaps…

Viserys cleared his throat. "Ser, if we could become more acquainted with our surroundings, I could settle down, truly. We are excited to be back, to say the least."

"Yes, I'm sure." His voice sounded distracted for a hint of a second, then he was back to his regular self.

"Once you become more accustomed to your rooms at the Water Gardens, we'll have you down for a late dinner. I'm sure you'll be famished by then. Prince Viserys, you will meet your betrothed, my sister, Princess Arianne. We shall need to wait, obviously, as per my father's instructions, until the time is right to unveil your marriage. In the meantime, please enjoy your new home."

"No marches on King's Landing?"

"Families, alliances, and armies need to be in order before we do such a thing. Elsewise we'll raise suspicions and we'll all lose our heads. Queen Cersei is more than a woman to contend with, she has a grip on the throne that rivals most."

That put a damper on the moment, thought Viserys. He crossed his arms and tried not to allow his true feelings to show.

Nonchalant, Daenerys surreptitiously studied the man across from her. He was very plain, with light brown hair and a nondescript face, a stocky build, and hands with thick, seemingly uncoordinated fingers. If the Princess Arianne bore any likeness to him, Viserys would probably be howling about it later. Viserys didn't seem to be thinking very much of it at the moment, as he was probably brooding about his throne.

"Forgive me for being bold, princess, but have you ever seen Westeros?"

She gave him a hint of a smile that knew more than it revealed. "N I haven't, but stories of Westeros can be always be found in the Free Cities."

"You won't be seeing it as it's supposed to be seen, unfortunately. A long winter is ahead of us, and that will be part of the landscape for many years to come."

She wondered what to think of that, as the book she had been reading about the flora and fauna of Westeros had also suggested as much, and Viserys looked as though he had expected as much. Daenerys disliked being less than informed, so she made note of it so she could keep track of the new differences.

Several uneventful hours passed, and soon they were heading up the drive that would bring them to the Water Gardens. As the coach pulled up, it almost felt like a dream for Daenerys. The door opened, and she followed her brother out. Everything in soft focus, the people, the dignitaries, the grandiose parade of people there to greet them. _We are home. _She understood that their presence still flew under the banner of secretive protection, but every servant in the castle had come out to greet them, as well as the family Martell.

A strong breeze swept across the conflagration, and everyone's clothing rustled, hair tousled, flags swimming in the wind. Her brother and she were ushered to a man in a chair who looked to be very kind.

"You must be Daenerys and Viserys of House Targaryen," he said, pleasantly.

"And you must be Prince Doran Martell. Pleased to make your acquaintance." Viserys said and bowed. Daenerys curtseyed very deeply.

"And the same to you both. Please make yourself at home. I trust you are exhausted after your journey."

Cordial smiles were issued from the Targaryen siblings.

"My staff will help you to your rooms. Please." Doran Martell watched the Targaryens ascend the stairs from his seat.

Viserys and Daenerys were shown rooms that were opulent, elegant, and most importantly, side by side with adjoining doors that connected the two rooms. The thought behind the decision was that they would want to be able to talk to each other in the privacy of their own quarters.

Once all of her things had been brought to her room, Dany requested the presence of a residential handmaiden. The girl, who bore the traditional Dornish features of a sharp widow's peak and small dark eyes, genially answered her questions.

"What is the traditional dress in Westeros, and here in Dorne?"

"What will be the protocol tonight?"

"Would you help me pick an outfit?"

"Who will be at dinner?"

"Anything I should know about local customs?"

When all of her questions were finally answered, Daenerys emerged from her quarters wearing a long, slinky dress the color of an orange peel. A silver necklace with a dainty multifaceted garnet hung just below her collarbone. In her hair, a silver headband kept her hair from her face, and the length of her platinum fall of hair hung down her naked back. Comfortable sandals the hue of her skin adorned her feet. She looked to her left to her brother emerging, looking just as though he too had waited for this moment to reveal himself.

He wore black in lines streamlined just for the contours of his shape; crimson adorned his cuffs and the inside of his collar. His hair hung as it always did, just above his shoulders, and the boots he wore were his customary black, but it looked like they had been polished to a fine sheen.

He blinked several times when he saw Daenerys and she had to laugh out of sheer enjoyment.

"Well now." He laughed. "You look incredible, Dany."

"Really?" She laughed

"You look…" he trailed off, and Daenerys could see his eyes trailing along the lines of her body.

"Come, we've got to go down to dinner," she said, and extended her hand for him to take. Without a second thought, he took it and they walked hand in hand down the length of the hall.

"You look very good too, Viserys."

"Are you nervous?"

"Honestly, it feels as though there are many expectations to meet." She looked up at him, and he gave her a light kiss on her hair.

The open air hall was only sparsely lit by candelabra, and there was enough twilight to cast shadows of blue and purple throughout the elongated arches of the hall.

A petite, dark-haired woman with swelling curves approached Viserys soon after he arrived in the banquet hall. Colors that were not colors at all, but elements of ebony and azure, chased her figure; her slashed sleeves revealed toned bronze arms, while more mild slashes to her pant legs provided the sight of her smooth athletic legs. Silky black curls crowned her head, whilst a fixed smile adorned her cupid bow mouth.

"You must be Viserys," she said, carefully keeping her hands behind her back.

"You must be right," he joked, nonplussed.

"I'm Arianne." She said. Her eyes traveled slowly from his feet to his long legs to his torso, and finally to his face, taking his measure.


	7. Chapter 7

_I imagine that the song that was playing when Viserys first danced with Daenerys was a song by Diego Garcia, named "Inside My Heart" on his first album, 'Laura'._

_Thanks to those who reviewed- it means a ton. I like getting that feedback so I can know how this story is being digested. I love talking about philosophy and sex and life, and how those things are conveyed through something like this story. I am an open book, so don't be afraid to strike up a conversation. I'm pretty easy. Enjoy and have a great day/night. Buenos tardes/noches. Bonne journee/nuit._

* * *

><p>"Arianne," he repeated. Only Daenerys could discern the mild note of shock in his voice.<p>

The dark-haired woman said nothing, only waiting for him to react. The difference in height was rather noticeable, for she only reached to the upper part of his chest, but at least for the moment she had completely cowed him.

"Pleased to meet your acquaintance." The band struck up a tune, a song with a beat that possessed a powerful cadence.

"Yes, very pleased. I must say, I have never seen a true Targaryen before."

"And you thought we all died out like the dragons," he joked.

"Not far from it," she agreed, and signaled for two glasses to be brought over. The crystal glasses possessed a strong, ruby red Dornish wine. When Viserys brought the glass to his mouth to smell, the scent of tannins and arid, hotly sweet grapes sprang forth.

Unbeknownst to the two, Daenerys had faded into the background. Once she had found a space next to the table, she could sense the eyes of nearly every man in the room on her. It did not take long for one of them to approach her, much to the chagrin of the other men.

"And look at you. Just like all the storybooks. You look very much like Rhaegar, your late older brother."

Viserys stiffened. Old ghosts haunted him still.

"Do you like stating the obvious, or is this all for my benefit?" He admonished her. Her ample breasts were impossible to miss. Viserys took an almost imperceptible step back so he wouldn't have quite the intriguing view he was admittedly partaking of.

"It's just that I'm shocked. Westeros hasn't seen a Targaryen in a long time. You won't find better friends or allies than a good Dornishman or woman. You're lucky."

"Lucky…"

"You've been born to privilege. You've just been missing out on it your entire adult life."

Viserys gambled and took yet another step back. "Bold, aren't you."

"I'm not shy like my father." She took a subtle step forward.

"Imagine that."

"Do you like the way I look? I'm afraid I'm not a slinky dragon girl like your sister, but I hope you see something you like."

"I… think that you've got an agenda." That stopped her.

"Well. We can't all be perfect." She replied, and walked away. Viserys eyes remained on her receding form. He made his way over to Doran Martell, who had already been seated at the table, and sat down to his left, as the chair to his right was already occupied by Areo Hotah, a ferocious looking man who had recognizable tattoos from the Free Cities. Viserys nodded at the man, then steepled his fingers together.

"So I see you've met my daughter," Doran sighed.

"Yes. She is quite pretty, and what a mind she has."

"Thank you for saying so. She is very intelligent. She is also very foolhardy, unfortunately. At least you have been introduced; all good things come with time."

There was a lengthy silence. Viserys chose to fill it by swilling around the wine in his glass. He would need to be absolutely clear-headed for this.

Soon they were all sitting down to a dinner that promised ten courses, as well as accompanying libation for those who drank. Doran sipped on a drink that was his customary concoction, but the guests were served brandy, wine, and a nice hoppy beer that complemented the pear salad splendidly. Daenerys sat further down the table from Viserys, on the opposite side. And who should sit next to him but Arianne?

They engaged in polite conversation for most of the meal, with her educating him about Dornish culture, and him smiling and laughing in all the right places. Viserys noticed a tall debonair man speaking to his younger sister and asked his betrothed:

"Who is that?" His voice was calm and polite; a razors edge could be discerned in the clipped appeal of his sentence.

"Darkstar of House Dayne." Viserys had forgotten many of the houses, but he knew this one was of Starfell.

Daenerys was smiling but only in a polite way. It was obvious the young man was captivating, especially from the tone of Arianne's voice when she had said his name.

"Are you alright?" Arianne murmured.

"Of course."

Arianne was familiar with the rumors that swirled around House Targaryen, the chief one being the most infamous one, that they married brother to sister at least once every few generations. It was said to keep the blood pure, but that selfsame practice had mutilated the dragons to an astonishing degree, and, after all, Mad King Aerys had earned his nickname with good reason.

Two beautiful siblings… didn't minds always wander at least a little?

Viserys eyes were glued to his sister.

"Viserys."

"Yes," he managed to tear his eyes away.

"I think she'll be fine." Briefly his eyebrows knotted together, but he took the hint and busied himself swilling the wine in his glass once again, watching the legs slowly recede back to the bottom of the glass.

"Well, since your reputation has preceded you, have you any questions for me?" Her voice was sultry.

"Yes." He took a moment to collect his thoughts. "How old are you?"

"Younger than you."

"Okay. Well, is there something you would like to tell me about yourself?" His words weren't mean to be desultory, simply getting to the point.

"I didn't expect to like you."

"Ahh, I see." For the first time since they began their conversation, Viserys calmed. It was because he had felt the same way.

"So what are we going to do about that?" he murmured. The candlelight radiated light from empty corners around the room as the sun disappeared more and more behind the horizon.

"Nothing. I don't think anything can be done. It's already been resolved."

"How?" He sounded actually confounded this time.

"I like you." She gave him a hidden, secretive smile.

"Huh." The retort was released from his lips before he knew what he was actually saying. Her eyebrows raised slightly in expectation.

There was an element of girlishness in Arianne that belied the signals she was sending out. Since he sincerely desired a degree of honesty with her, he said nothing for a moment, but took pity on her and took her hand in his.

"Well—same here." Her eyes watched him. His hand was both warm and cold.

He released her hand and speared a pear with his fork. "When would you like to be married?"

"I thought men usually liked to delay the process as long as possible." She gave him a long-lashed blink.

"Not necessarily. I just don't see any reason to delay the inevitable."

She stopped to consider his words. When her father had told her she was to marry Viserys Targaryen, she had balked. Becoming queen of Westeros changed things at least a little, however.

"I think that love should have something to do with it. Normally I don't put such a high price on the things I want, but since expediting our nuptials is what you want… my price is love."

Viserys blinked slowly. "What has love ever done for anyone?"

"Hazard a guess and you might find your answer."

A long, drawn out inward sigh later, Viserys realized there were costs that he had not factored in.

* * *

><p>"My little sister is growing up so fast." Viserys said, as they were returning to their rooms.<p>

Dany laughed a little. "Glad to hear you think so." Their shoes echoed in the hallway.

"Would you like to enjoy a sip of brandy in my rooms?" He said, the tone of his voice warm and inviting.

"You know, I think I shall talk to you while you have some brandy. That sounds good."

"Whatever you desire." He waved her in, and closed the door softly behind them.

Daenerys sat down in one of the plush chairs in front of the hearth. "What do you think of Arianne?"

He gave an audible exhalation and poured two glasses of brandy from a decanter. He gave one to Dany and sat opposite her.

"Beautiful."

His eyes watched her long platinum hair swing against the voluminous height of the chair as she kicked off her sandals and crossed her legs.

"Why do I get the feeling you're not talking about her?"

His voice sounded pained. "What am I supposed to do? She tells me I must earn her love. I haven't even completely earned yours."

"True." She smiled and took a slender sip of her brandy.

"Why do you have to be so…"

"—you should romance her. The best way to do so is to simply be yourself. Trust in your instincts. Be kind. It has taken you this long to merely relax and be yourself with me. Don't further retrograde your progress by ignoring the things you have learned."

"Come here."

"Why?"

"Because I'm asking you to."

Her eyes became distant. "Is that because you're the heir to the throne and that I should submit to you or is it because—"

"It's not because of the former. You do quite the job of quelling my appetite."

Letting his words sink in, Viserys said once again, with a voice liquid, "come here."

Fighting it, Daenerys gave him another sarcastic remark. "Tell me why."

Eyes on her, Viserys brought his hand to his throat and roughly unbuttoned the top button on his tunic. Quickly one button after another was undone, until his tunic was open; he crossed the distance between them on his hands and knees. He looked up at her, and she looked down on him. When he pounced on her, he wasn't entirely sure who was more vigorous in their respective kiss.

They took their time with it, savoring the feeling of soft lips and the sudden unbreakable closeness of each other.

"You—" she said, when she took a breath. Her eyes glistened with moisture.

"What?" he said, breathing hard.


	8. Chapter 8

_A/N: Thanks to those who reviewed. I am grateful for your continued support. _:)_  
><em>

* * *

><p>"You—"<p>

"What?"

She slid her arm around his waist and gently brought him into her lap. He was sitting on her, and he tried not to put all his weight on her by shifting some weight to the armrest, but by then he realized he was over thinking it, and so he just let himself rest on her. She looked pleased with the pressure of him on her lap, so he relaxed.

"You are very bad." She said, her voice mildly chastising.

"Yes, quite." He swallowed.

She allowed her fingers to linger on his cheekbones for a hint of a second.

"Do you remember when you threw me against the wall right before we left Pentos?"

He squirmed, almost getting up.

"You do, then. Well done. I've got some punishment for you." She held onto him, her fingers digging into his arm, not uncomfortably, but firmly. He breathed harshly in her face.

"You're going to punish me?"

"I don't have a reason not to." She said, pushing him to the floor. Daenerys guided his face between her legs and sighed with pleasure when he did what she wanted him to do.

* * *

><p>Viserys sipped his tea on the patio. The courtyard itself was the very picture of a sculptured garden, complete with fountains, artfully maintained trees and bushes, and rare sculpture from centuries past. They sat at a glass table that was set for four, even though only Daenerys and her brother were seated at brunch.<p>

When Viserys put down the cream, he accidentally knocked the sugar spoon from the canister and onto the table. From the fringe of her lowered eyes, Daenerys could tell he was preoccupied. When he looked up at her, his lilac eyes drank her in.

Daenerys suspected, but was not sure, that she was currently the subject of some careful espionage. She suspected most of the female servants and some of the male servants were agents of a person of importance. Though she was alarmed, she wanted to be certain before she alerted Viserys.

With presumed idleness, she stirred her tea and remembered Arianne's words about how the best friend a Targaryen could have was a good Dornish man or woman. She had happened to be talking to the gentleman, Darkstar, when she overheard that tidbit of information. While she had enjoyed a lively conversation in which Darkstar had entertained her with stories of his family and their historical ties to Westeros and Dorne, she was only vaguely interested in anything beyond the mere stories.

When it was convenient she had stolen looks over at the conversation Arianne and Viserys were having, and was surprised at the shock, horror, and polite refraining expressions that she saw on Viserys face, and had stifled a laugh with more expertise than she knew she possessed. The reaction was born out of a humor that could be likened to a child watching a stern elder get berated by someone half his size. Though she no longer considered herself child in any sense beyond the scope of age, it was entertaining to see Viserys gulp and lose his fervor, though she had to admit he had held his own extraordinarily well.

"I'm going to unpack some things. I'll see you soon." She murmured. The emerald sheath she wore caught the wind and cascaded as she left her seat. He simply glowered at her. She fought the urge to laugh, and simply left, out to do some exploring.

Viserys continued to sip his tea, enjoying the taste of the cream, which was much more fresh than he had any right to enjoy on the ship.

A brisk wind swept through and took the napkin off his lap, and covering a groan, he went to retrieve it from underneath the table on his hands and knees when he saw a pair of black slippers connected to a pair of extremely shapely calves.

He backed up and took his seat, unraveling his napkin with a flourish and setting it on the table.

"Windy today, isn't it?" he murmured. Arianne stood there with a close-lipped smile.

Viserys stood and gave her a clipped bow. "Would you like to join me for breakfast?"

"Sounds appetizing enough." She said, and took a seat. Arianne wore a more demure outfit today, Viserys noticed, a simple gown taken in at the waist that flowed almost down to her ankles in a fall of navy blue taffeta, accents of black pearls sewn into the cuffs and neckline. Viserys, for his part, wore a beautiful new jacket and pants that had been laid out for him as a gift, he had assumed, when he awoke and found it on the dresser. The color was white, cut to fit him perfectly, and accented his pale looks very well.

A maidservant appeared and planted a swift chaste kiss on Arianne's cheek before hearing what she wanted for breakfast. She left with a quick backward glance at Viserys that seemed to absorb the details of his dress. Viserys shifted slightly in his seat and cast a look at Arianne.

"A friend of yours?" He asked politely.

"More than a friend." She smiled and put a napkin in her lap. "I've known Julianne for many years. I trust her implicitly."

_It is a luxury to trust another so well, _Viserys thought to himself. He still trusted Daenerys beyond anyone else, yet he had to admit that he had felt a pang of jealousy to see the comforting exchange between friends.

Perhaps the pang had not been concealed so well. Arianne looked at him with a measuring glance.

"How was your rest?" He inquired politely.

"Not very good. I was thinking of our conversation last night."

Her words brought it all back. _I'm supposed to make her love me in order to marry me—in order to get the iron throne_. Wonderful.

Her words, slightly accented by her native Dornish accent, seasoned her words with a taste of the exotic.

"I am quite curious about you. I know it is difficult to delve into the past when prompted, but I would like to know more about your past."

"It's not a cheery story. Maybe fetching some light sparkling wine would make this conversation better lubricated."

Arianne took the hint and made the proper accommodations.

"When I was about nine, my mother and I went into exile. Daenerys was born soon after, and our mother died when she was born. That left us with a caretaker who was loyal to us, and helped find our first home."

"We were just children when all of it happened. Imagine the comforts of living at Kings Landing, of being the younger brother to the heir to the throne, then having it all taken away—your father, your mother, brother, the love of a kingdom… It has taxed me, this loss. It manifests in curious ways."

Viserys said no more until a glass was placed before him and filled nearly to the brim. He continued, sloshing the liquid in the glass so it bubbled and trailed over his fingertips.

Arianne noticed he wore dragon skulls on his fingers.

"We went on that way, with me raising Daenerys, and us traveling from one helpful merchant to the next. There were betrayals, midnight evacuations… I sold my mother's crown."

Viserys's tongue sucked the moisture from his teeth and he bit his lips. "That's why they call me the beggar king."

He took another moment to let the bitterness recede from his voice. "It's not a very good story. And I'm sorry for that. I wish I could tell you a different one, honestly. One about friends coming to friends in need, or about how I've seen the best of humanity; but even the most brilliant light can be dimmed, and the most beautiful thing can be damaged."

"Viserys… I'm sorry." Arianne's words sounded insipid even to herself. Mentally she shook herself and tried again.

"No one's story is very good. And it all becomes better in hindsight."

"Not every time."

"No, not every time," she amended, "but time heals all wounds."

She blinked and looked down. Her hands were folded neatly in her lap. She wondered if her face was pale.

Her food arrived suddenly, and she found she had little appetite, though she made herself eat, because she knew she would need the energy later and she would rather not waste a perfectly good meal.

"I'm sorry I made you relive that. I can tell the wound is still fresh. If you like I can leave you to your thoughts…" she made as though to get up.

"Please, stay. I'm brooding. Things are never so bad as they seem." He said it as though to reassure himself.

She ate, and he drank a little of his wine. The bubbles soothed his stomach.

"You would like my uncle, Oberyn. There are those who call him the Viper. He has seen enough of love and loss in his life to be able to empathize. His sister, my aunt, was Elia. He knows much of the tragedy you speak of."

"Yes, that's right." He nodded. Such a small world.

"Would you like to take a walk with me? My father always says this place is the most beautiful place in the world, surely that must be intriguing."

Begrudgingly, he stood up and they walked toward the fountains.


	9. Chapter 9

_A/N: _

_Songs that remind me of Daenerys and Viserys…_

"_I Remember" by Kaskade and Deadmau5 – for Daenerys_

"_How Soon is Now?" by the Smiths for Viserys, set at beginning of NOL._

_Thanks to my loyal readers for your continued support. Let me know of your comments or questions.  
><em>

* * *

><p>"My father loves the idea of children playing. They come from all backgrounds. The children used to be just the children of the royal family, but now they are the children of the stewards and servants too, playing and enjoying the peaceful summers."<p>

"So you were once one of those children?" Viserys was pleasantly surprised.

"Yes, I'm embarrassed to say I was. It seems like so long ago, but I suppose it really wasn't."

Her hands were clasped behind her as she walked. Viserys walked beside her with much the same stance. When she stopped, a breeze tossed her curls around her face, and she looked up at Viserys with an appealing look.

"I lost my innocence long ago, much the same as you, though in a different way. I've always been stubborn, reckless. I don't know how to be any other way. Can you understand?"

"Why yes, I think that I do. Who someone is… he or she can deny it, but they remain at least partly that way forever."

When she turned away, it was as though that inner part of her had vanished, and a mask reappeared.

Viserys had to say, that even though Arianne seemed quite intriguing, he wasn't as fluidly interested in her as… as love the drug would have instilled in him. When one already has experienced perfection, how is even a beautiful princess but a dull comparison? Her off-putting comments and questions about his past put him on edge, but in a clumsy, attractive fashion. He liked her, but something inside him hesitated to take that next step.

She probably thought he was interesting, but of sexual chemistry there was no definitive rapport. Once one has asked the questions one wanted to ask, how does one go further? He had been perfectly honest.

"You seem like a rebel," he said, as they neared the forest on the outskirts of the gardens.

When she blinked, it was apparent she was agreeing with him. The corners of her lips turned up.

"Whatever makes you say that?"

"Let's just say it's an innocent assumption."

"Hmm. Well, maybe everyone rebels in their own special way. I see you're wearing the outfit I selected for you." Arianne's fingers danced on the collar of his tunic for a few moments, admiring the beadwork.

"You selected this for me? Why ever for?"

"Why ever not? You're to be my husband. Enjoy the fruits of my labors."

* * *

><p>Sunlight slanted through the jade curtains of her boudoir and onto the covered chest that had been sent with her from across the narrow sea. The box itself was covered with carved leaves the color of sage, and a background that was rough-hewn, textured to create the underscoring effect of a shadowed backdrop. There was no lock; the box had been entirely intended for Daenerys wedding day to Khal Drogo (a name she still remembered, as though bored into her subconscious memory.)<p>

With a tendril of timidity, her fingers pushed back the top of the container and she beheld three beautifully ornate eggs in a bed of straw, one more intricate in swirls and speckles than the last. Cream, emerald, and black with hints of red were displayed, each egg presumably heavy, like rock. _Dragon eggs? These are no longer incubating, no longer viable... simply rocks- but there is nothing simple about that!_

Daenerys heard voices, so with a clamor the box was shut, but not before she completely memorized the experience as though she were taking a fluid picture of the occurrence, some innate part of her imbuing herself with the importance and the burden of what she had just seen. Stashing the box within another chest, she ran to the mirror and pretended as though she were merely fixing a strap, simultaneously absorbed in smoothing whatever insignificant wrinkles had become imbedded in her frock.

A light knock on the door was her cue to say, "Yes?"

"Daenerys." Viserys voice was uncharacteristically bright. "Would you like to take a walk with Arianne and I? We just finished taking a turn through the garden, and we were considering sitting in the sun room, maybe enjoying the cool evening breeze."

Arianne peeked her head around Viserys shoulder.

"That sounds lovely," Daenerys murmured from her post at the mirror, and crossed the room.

Arianne stood just inside the doorway, and had a shy smile on her lips.

"We haven't formally met, but I'm Arianne. I'm sorry I haven't introduced myself sooner." She apologized.

Daenerys bequeathed to her a very gentle smile. "I'm very pleased to meet you. I see that Viserys has minded his manners." Daenerys smile broadened with her introductory joke.

"Yes," She laughed. "He's been very polite."

Daenerys looked over at her brother and felt a small sense of pride. He had not always been so slow to anger, and she presumed it had been her effect on him that had in turn made Viserys more honest with his feelings.

"Come, let's see the sunroom that you speak of." she accepted, her voice soft.

They walked down the hall.

"I usually live within the city, within Sunspear. But this resort is my home away from home. I usually come down for the summers. My friends and I, we come for relaxation, to enjoy playing ball, or swimming, since it is usually so nice. When the day has drawn to a close, one of my favorite places to adjourn is to the easternmost sunroom."

They walked in comfortable silence until they reached a large glass door, which Viserys took the liberty of opening for the ladies.

Dappled sunlight that filtered through both ancient trees and the windows of the sunroom cast an evening glow on the room, the young inhabitants of said room now possessing hints of light and dark on their faces and forms.

"Forgive my rudeness, but I am interested in what it was like to grow up with just your brother. He told me a little about it already, but I would like to hear it from your perspective."

Surprise ran like a currant through her. _How am I supposed to tell her anything short of the truth, and anything wider than a white lie?_ Her brother had been awful. She could only imagine what she would say:

_"He was an absolute beast. Whenever he got angry, he tried to hurt me. He's much better now, but that's because nearly everything he wants is within reach."_

Without missing a beat, Daenerys eyebrows lifted in the semblance of quiet expectation.

Well, it's an interesting story, one not for the faint of heart…" she began, analyzing Arianne's reaction.

"Yes, I know. I'm sorry. Please tell me what you can." Next to her, Viserys sat silently, stoic as a statue. Daenerys did not catch his eye.

"It all began when I was a child. Viserys raised me. He was my protector. We did the best we could. We are very highly educated, considering, but I intend to expand on that education here in Westeros. Perhaps you could introduce me to your Maester?" The change in topic was necessary, as it established something she had been meaning to ask anyway.

"Of course. You two shall meet you on the morrow."

"Good. My thanks." A flicker of her eyelashes symbolized her returning to the story of her past. Arianne would not be easy to placate

"Viserys is very special to me. We are all we know, so you'll have to bear with us if we seem to be together very often."

"I understand. After all, Targaryens tend to be quite close, as history books would have it!" Arianne laughed.

Daenerys and Viserys laughed a little, but there was a certain tightness to their smiles. They dared not look at one another.

"Do you ever feel that, that closeness? Is it strange, the idea of mating brother to sister?"

The question took her breath away. This time she had to take a moment to think. Viserys let out a loud exhalation of air.

"That is _quite_ a question, Arianne." He said, his voice silky, a bit of good-humor found in his emphasis on "quite."

"I am _ever_ so curious, though. Here I am with the last two Targaryens in existence and I have the opportunity to ask this question. Can you blame me?"

Wordless, Daenerys was. If she had chanced to look over at Viserys, she would have witnessed the same reaction in him.

A beat. "It's not strange. It feels very natural. It was our father's intention for us to marry when we came of age. So even though Viserys is very much my… brother, it was apparent that our family expected more from our relationship."

The light was gradually ebbing in the shaded sunroom.

"Arianne? I think it's time we adjourned to get ready for dinner." Viserys murmured, getting up from his seat.

"Of course." Arianne said in reply, feeling slightly abashed that she had begun this conversation.

Daenerys silently followed them.

When they had reached their rooms, Viserys laid a cool kiss on Arianne's hand, bowing in the process.

Arianne gave him a smile, and left them, descending down the staircase at the end of the hall.

Viserys opened the door for Daenerys into her apartments.

At this point, Daenerys was almost completely sure that her and her brother's apartments were not being infiltrated, but it was a relief to at least partly forget about that at the present moment. She flopped on her bed.

"What was her goal in getting that out of you?" Viserys fumed, throwing his hand in the air with a flourish. "Was she so _curious_ that she had to embarrass us both in the process? What have we to be afraid of?"

Seeing her on the bed, Viserys walked over to her, and crawled on top of her, his knees on either side of her thighs, his hands alongside her arms, which were thrown up and over her head, her hair a spill of silver.

"Tell me, Daenerys, what have we to be afraid of?"

"Nothing, darling," she said, bringing his face close to hers so she could kiss him.

"Take me," she whispered, her eyes blessedly closed, feeling his lithe body beneath her fingertips, trailing them over the cloth. Viserys sat on her, taking the pretty dress that had so coquettishly flirted with him earlier that day, and ripping it down her front so that he could easily get her out of it.

"You are too pretty for your own good," he murmured, satisfied with her.

"Umm," she said, stretching beneath him and rolling onto her stomach.

"You want me to take you like…" he trailed off.

She merely sighed again, the remnants of her dress floating around her exposed form like wings of an emerald butterfly. Viserys nibbled on her earlobe, taking it into his mouth and sucking it gently. He pulled off his jacket, the crisp ivory shirt, shrugged out of his trousers, and whatever else had bound him up that day, and progressed to trailing his hands up and down Daenerys body. He kissed the skin above her hips, nibbling on it until she started squirming with laughter.

"I want to feel you," she whispered, arching against him, kissing him over her shoulder. He made a sound deep in his throat and starting pushing himself inside her. He wasn't very good at it yet, and sometimes it hurt before it started to feel good, probably for them both, but Daenerys was wet and he soon accomplished the goal of getting himself inside her.

"Ahh," he said, building himself a rhythm. He had her hips in his hands, and it felt damned good. Daenerys was beneath him, tossing her hair and making all sorts of scrumptious noises, as though she were truly enjoying herself. He made sure not to be too aggressive with her, but sometimes it was quite a struggle. Of course he didn't want to hurt her, that was far from what he wanted, but he was fairly sure she liked it when he very nearly almost hurt her.

"On top of me," she murmured, and rolled over beneath him. Before she knew it he was in her arms, melding into her, giving her all sorts of homage, kissing her breathless, nibbling her neck. He easily found his way inside her again, and they were swimming in the seas of pleasure.

It didn't take long for her to find her peak, and he came right with her. They moaned into each other at they took their pleasure.

Daenerys didn't know why, but making love during the day always gave her a burst of energy. At night she was inclined to slumber, but at this moment in time, her limbs woven between sheets and skin, she was once again interested in the eggs she had found earlier that day. She disentangled herself and went over the chest to look over them again. Faithfully, they were where she had left them, and when she opened the lid, Daenerys held her breath for sheer amazement at the beauty of them.

"Viserys, come look at these."

He made a groan, but he threw on a long shirt and came around the bed to see what she was talking about.

"Dragon eggs," he said, struck by the sight of them. He touched the cream egg. "I've told you about the dragons, yes?"

"Is this to be a lesson? Of course I know about the dragons."

He gave her a concerned look.

"Well, if I'm going to get a lecture I should at least put some clothes on," she said. He caught her arm, and gave her a look that said, _"Okay, okay."_

"These are stone eggs, but they are worth investigating. At the very least, they are worth a fortune."

"I am going to talk to the maester about it tomorrow." Daenerys agreed, nodding.

He nodded. It went without saying that these were incredibly special eggs; a thoughtful present for a wedding that would never take place.


	10. Chapter 10

A/N: I apologize about the wait! Please enjoy. :)

* * *

><p>Daenerys sat on the carpet holding the eggs in her hands, her thoughts lingering with fascination and dread upon what she had been informed not fifteen minutes ago by Maester Windel. She bit her lip and immediately regretted the action, having repeatedly commenced the habitual act since hearing the undesirable news of what (in no uncertain terms) the cost would be of returning <em>life, <em>that most precious and seemingly unattainable culmination, to the stone eggs she now held in her own two hands. The large crimson egg lay dormant on the rug between her extended legs. Daenerys stilled her breath when she heard the rasp of her bedroom door opening and closing.

"Daenerys, what are you doing?" Viserys unmistakable voice rang through the room, and Dany envisaged her form such as it was, sitting in the middle of the large woven rug. She wondered if he thought she looked like a child with some toys.

Normally, Daenerys would muster up a small quip about how her brother was always asking the most obvious questions, but with the weight of recent events on her mind, Dany gave him a quick once over, and beckoned him to her with but a look.

"What?" his tone was stern and exasperated. In his newly gifted robes, designed and sewn with swaths of gold and orange and white, he sat across from her, however indelicately.

"You have been summoned to lunch, and you're already supposed to be there." He said in a lower voice.

"I'm sorry, I must have forgotten," Daenerys replied, looking genuinely abashed.

Even though she knew he would be very interested in her news, Daenerys now doubted Viserys would have the inclination to listen, and she would have the inclination to tell, what had happened, even in the event that it had to do with her very important, though currently stone, dragon eggs. Lissom hands belonging to her darted out to enfold all three eggs in her arms, and she proceeded to put them away. Viserys watched her shifting silk scarves around the eggs in the mahogany chest, which was subsequently hidden under the bed.

"Luckily for you, I made an adequate excuse for you, so you may seek out the kitchens and find whatever food suits you." He smiled at her, and Daenerys saw kindness in his eyes.

She sensed he wanted her to say something, but she simply did not have the inclination to, her mind still brooding in the depths of the knowledge she now bore.

"Daenerys," Viserys breathed out. "Whatever can you be thinking now?"

"Hold me," she whispered, feeling puny, but somehow still saying the words.

Gathering her in his arms, he picked her up and put her on the bed.

"Are you going to be okay?" He asked, standing over her.

"I think so." She said.

* * *

><p>A soft tug on his sleeve reminded him that his betrothed, Arianne, was very close.<p>

"What are you doing, beloved?" He subtly inquired, turning toward her.

He had sensed Arianne's presence in the hall shortly after he had left the _cyvasse_ room. The _cyvasse_ room itself was a large game room with a tall oak table as its centerpiece, resplendent with ornate carvings of gargoyles inlaid within the paneled wood. Tall oak chairs were composed opposite each other, silhouetted by candles from the high, wrought iron chandelier.

Servants had lit the room after he requested it be done; curiosity never far from his present analysis of his surroundings. With the room illuminated, he at once glimpsed the works of art inherent to Westeros tradition—fine art that differed dramatically from the artistic sensibilities of the Free Cities, witnessed through sporadic, heavy metal sculptures sprinkled through hallways or expansive foyers, or intricately bejeweled urns—all art he was privy to at Illyrio's palace.

For one thing, calm, natural landscapes pervaded the hallways of his new home; whether of mountains, rivers, or glen, these canvases depicted idyllic tranquility with true finesse. The frost of winter was conveyed through the snow on pine trees. Passing from one landscape to another, Viserys secretly struggled to evoke memories of his own youth in Kings Landing and Dragonstone.

"What do you think I'm doing?" she replied in a spiced tone. Her voice brought him straightaway to the present.

Viserys delicately put his hands on the upper parts of her exposed arms, perceiving a smell unlike the scent of tigerlilies, which seemed to follow her. Arianne tilted her heart-shaped face slightly to one side so she could gaze at him archly through curled black lashes.

Viserys brought her closer to him to he could more accurately discern what he smelled. The scent became intoxicating.

"Have you had anything to drink?" he asked, concerned.

"I was given a bottle of honey brandy for my name day last year. I tasted it for the first time not fifteen minutes ago. It was not soon afterwards that, I thought I might see you." Her words, too, were touched with honey brandy.

"That's nice of you." Viserys concluded.

"What were you doing?" she asked with sudden interest. Viserys released her arms, noting that she had not struggled at all in his grasp.

"Nothing special. Investigating the castle."

"Oh, is that right? Find anything interesting?" She asked.

"I'm trying to become more… it's different, being here. I want to feel like I remember more about my homeland."

Arianne's eyelashes fluttered. "It must be hard."

Silence reigned.

No sense in hemming and hawing, Arianne thought. The liquid courage she had imbibed earlier made the question easy to ask. "Why should I like you?"

Viserys blinked. "Because I am the trueborn heir to the iron throne. And because I am the rightful king—your rightful king, if you'll have me." Smoothly, he clasped her hand in his.

Arianne blinked, gauging him. Viserys raised himself to his full height and looked down on her with thoughtfulness.

"You can always ask me any question you like." He said.

"I only desire candid answers."

Viserys closed his eyes and willed himself closer to her, as though it took every ounce of his being to do so.

"How can I be honest with you unless I am honest with myself?" He whispered, a deeper meaning intent within his words.

"I'm here," she whispered, her voice lost as she slipped into the shadows.


	11. Chapter 11

_A/N: Hey guys! I apologize if you've been following this story and have been waiting! I'm very sorry, and frankly, my excuses are pretty pathetic. _

_In any case, this chapter is a doozy. No, not necessarily risqué, (well…) but it does travel down the rabbit hole. I went ahead and dove for it, and this is what I came up with. I hope you like it, and if you do, please leave a comment. _

_And, by the way, thank you to Delta, Omelia, and Maddie Rose! Everyone who has commented has been such a trooper and has helped me SO much with getting this out. This is for you!  
><em>

* * *

><p>"Daenerys," A masculine voice softy murmured. Instantly she knew it was her brother.<p>

"What is it, Viserys?" she answered, her voice muffled against the pillows.

"I can't believe you're still sleeping," he teased, his voice sounding more patrician than ever, his tone sounding pleased with a hint of chastisement.

"Well, you know, there's this thing called dreaming. You should try it sometime." Still half-dosing, she still has the presence of mind to sass him.

"You have a very smart little mouth on you. You might put it to use elsewhere."

A beat. The sudden change in air was as much playful as their earlier conversation had indicated, but now it possessed a hint of urgency and desire.

Daenerys chose to ignore the barb, and instead nuzzled a pillow.

"Did you not hear what I said?" The sunlight filtering through the slit in the drapes illuminated the brightness of his hair.

Silence. "Well, you are needed to be dressed and ready, as the house dressmaker would like to take your measurements. I believe it's for a bridesmaid dress for my upcoming wedding to Arianne."

A flicker of a reaction spelled itself out on Daenerys face. Viserys mused that it might have been annoyance, or if he was lucky, jealousy.

"Does she admire you yet?" She asked, her tone similar to the particular look on her face.

"I'm fairly sure she does." Viserys kept it at that. He swept aside his coattails and sat on the bed next to Dany, who, beneath the layers of goose-down covers, slept naked. In the Dorne heat, it was practically a necessity. Viserys mused that it would be more prudent to sleep with a blanket and wear a gown of some sort, but he could file no real complaint against her method of dress. It was, in a word, provocative.

Daenerys rolled over on the bank of pillows, moving her arms above her head so she could then make an allowance for a singular stretch. She did not realize that the gossamer thin sheet had traveled halfway down her breasts. Seeing this development, she breathed a small sigh and retrieved the errant sheet. Her eyes had been halfway closed through this circumstance; Viserys eyes had not.

Getting up, Viserys brushed off an imaginary piece of lint and attempted to conclude his business. "If you would like to brunch with Arianne and I, we will be outside on the promenade." He made a small bow and left, inwardly cursing himself for not ripping the sheet off her and exhibiting who truly held the power between them. Persistently, he was surprised by his lust for Dany, which seemed unceasing and triggered a very devastating emotional effect on his behavior. No matter what, he must get it under control, and today, he deduced, had been a step in the right direction. Not pouncing on her, that is.

After a few moments spent finishing up her reclusive dream, Daenerys rung for her maid and informed her that she would be ready to receive the dressmaker in a matter of minutes. When the male dressmaker arrived, Daenerys was dressed in her now traditional Dorne attire; she wore a long cream sheath belted with the crest of the dragon with simple purple embroidery adorning her cuffs, the hem of her skirt, and long boat neckline. Usually she wore little to no jewelry, but today she opted for a delicate amethyst tiara that bore little to no weight at all, making it easy to forget the piece until she looked in a mirror.

"You look very lovely today, Lady Targaryen."

"Princess Targaryen," she corrected him. It wasn't in her nature to be so mindful of titles, but this one was justly hers.

"My princess." He swept into a bow.

While he was still crouched, Daenerys launched into the question she was most curious about.

"May I see the plans for the dresses?" She asked with a complimenting smile.

"Of course, my liege." From under his arm he revealed dress designs, fabric samples, and rudimentary drawings of what everyone would be wearing. Daenerys sat on the nearest upholstered chair and gestured for him to sit close to her. He did so, while she pored over the documents.

The designs for the dresses were simple: the ladies would be wearing dresses that were more Westerosi in style (that is with bodices and flounced skirts) with sashes that dictated their family colors. The dresses themselves would be the traditional orange and burnt sienna red of the Martell coat of arms, with the exception of Dany's. She looked over the designs for her dress.

"Violet," he murmured. "The color of your eyes."

She looked over at him, and then proceeded to closely examined her prescribed belted sash, which would be scarlet and silver, the buckle an emblem of the Targaryen signature three-headed dragon. Her dress's neckline would be a low cut "V" shape, which thus far was the only problem she could readily discern with the gown.

"Let's do a more demure shape for the neckline. A square-cut should be appropriate, especially considering that it will be similar to the other gowns in that respect."

"Are you sure about a square neckline? The v-cut would look simply ravishing on you…" He voiced his singular objection.

Daenerys smiled. "I think covering my bosoms for my brother's wedding would be for the best, don't you agree?"

The dressmaker blushed and started putting away his designs, when one paper fell to the floor. Her interest piqued, Daenerys picked up the sheet of paper and started examining it.

It was… it could hardly be called an outfit. The top was strapless, cinched in four consecutive places throughout the torso with straps, above the breasts, one just below, at the ribcage, and then at the belly button; it was the color of dark steel. The leggings (for that was what they were, astonishingly enough) seemed to be made of a course, tight fabric, like hemp, and ended at calf-length.

"What is this?" She asked innocently enough.

The dressmaker gulped and started stammering. "They say that is what Nymeria wore when she crossed the Rhoyne to Dorne…"

Without a moment's hesitation, she gave the piece of parchment back to him with but one request: "Make it, and bring it to me."

"With all the historic touches?" He asked as she herded him out the door.

"Of course." She said, closing the door behind him. Once she was alone in her chamber, the hammering in her heart began to slow.

Daenerys moved to where she had hidden her dragon eggs, and began to cradle them against her breast. They were cool to the touch, but she imagined they had warmed since she had first received him. Something primal in her began to unfold it's wings and declare itself, and she remembered what the magister had said and reiterated his knowledge in her heart. He had told her enough to get the ball rolling, so to speak, and she had checked and rechecked his references in the old magic books he had indicated to her. The magister clearly did not take the dragon eggs seriously, which was preferable to Daenerys.

Sorcery. The word was foreign and new, shrouded in mystery, and haunting with possible unforeseen repercussions. She knew this, knew what could happen, but that bothered her naught. The dragons would be brought back to life if they could be, _if they could be_, and she would see to that, even if it cost her her own life.

Before she had realized it, her heart was once again beating fast, and the stone-cold life in the eggs seemed to surge forth to protect her burdened mind. _Everything will be fine_… she reassured herself, mentally calculating the costs. Anything should be possible if one only tries…

* * *

><p>When she greeted Viserys and his betrothed, she sensed an uneasiness between them, but decided to feign nonchalance (even if she didn't feel it already.)<p>

"Hello," she greeted them, seating herself at the table.

"Hello," they said at once. Arianne took a sip from her glass of juice. Daenerys helped herself to some toasted bread and jam. Deciding also to eat some freshly sliced fruit, she helped herself to that as well.

A servant placed a fresh glass of blood orange juice next to her plate, and Daenerys delicately helped herself to her breakfast.

"Aren't you going to have any bacon? The protein will do you well," Viserys murmured. He looked very nice today, having chosen a tunic of green that made his lilac eyes appear aquamarine.

Daenerys blinked. "Of course, I agree. I had not thought to eat that yet, but I thank you for your concern."

_She handled that well, _Viserys thought ruefully. "Well, Arianne, what will you be doing today?"

"I was thinking about embarking to Sunspear for a few days. I have many friends there, cousins, who would love to hear the news I have for them of our nuptials."

"Oh really?" A wry smile crossed Viserys face. Something emerged that was very catlike about his features, as though he were proud and yet very satisfied with something excessively opportune at the same time.

If Viserys had her all to himself for a few days, Daenerys would not be able to focus her attention on the eggs and formulating a plan. She voiced a small objection. "But wouldn't it be appropriate to spend all the time you can with your betrothed?"

Arianne breathed a very easy-going laugh. "After we're married we'll have all the time in the world to be together."

"Of course." Daenerys smiled.

"Allow me to help you pack—" Viserys offered.

"—Actually I have to get on the road. I packed last night." Arianne remembered herself. "I am so sorry for not telling you both sooner."

"It's alright, I understand completely," Dany reassured her. Underneath the table, Viserys gave her thigh a quick squeeze.

With one last gulp of her orange juice, Arianne spirited herself away, trailing ends of jade cloth catching the wind as she disappeared behind a grating.

"Well, well." Viserys gave her an evil look.

"You don't know who could be watching us," Daenerys murmured though carefully closed lips before taking another sip of her orange juice.

He leaned back in his seat and thought in excruciating detail all the magnificent things he could now do. He wore a very lazy smile, and closed his eyes as he basked in the early morning sun.

"Let's adjourn to your quarters so we can talk." She said softly. It was a better idea to talk behind closed doors, rather than risk her brother openly fondling her on the veranda.

"_What_ an amazing idea," he complimented her, getting up from his seat. "But please, sister, do eat some bacon. You'll be needing your protein."

_A small, yet significant attempt to control me,_ Dany thought. She gave him her most gracious smile, and ignored the advice.

Once they had reached his quarters, and of course after they had confirmed that Arianne was fast on her way to Sunspear, the siblings let their guard down. They sat opposite each other in Viserys' set of chairs before the roaring fireplace.

"You've been very naughty." Viserys began.

"Do you ever say anything that doesn't sound villainous?" Daenery said in reply, a look of consternation crossing her face.

Viserys looked genuinely hurt, and also angered. "What do you really want, Dany? That's the real question, isn't it? I don't think you even know yourself," he scoffed.

_That had hurt her_, Viserys thought, and reflected that he regretted saying the previous few sentences.

"You make me feel like a child," she returned.

"You _are_ a child," he said, almost with a laugh.

"Is that so?" she asked simply. There was danger, here.

Though he wanted to cry and stomp around and possibly hurt her, he stayed seated and thought how he might best rectify the situation.

"Dany… you know I can't just—change and turn my back on who I have been to you. I've always taken care of you."

Dany relinquished her seat. Her blood told her her relationship with Viserys felt right, but her mind rebelled so fiercely that when he said things like that, she was repulsed and livid._ How did I get myself into this situation? _Daenerys knew that she and Viserys were not like other people, but part of her, the small, significant voice that spoke when she felt this way, _knew_ that this was wrong.

_Right and wrong… what are these things to me? I am of the dragon. There is no right or wrong. _Her blood pulsed through her like the senses of her fingertips and her eyes, informing her of a separate truth, much more necessary than her small, vigilant voice. Dany couldn't even tell if these conflicting emotions were not actually part of a greater whole: herself.

Viserys represented many of the evils in her life. He could be cruel. And she was drawn to him like a moth to a flame. Even when she said no, she really, truly, meant yes. And when she came with him, it was like blood and fire melding into one.

_Could we have a child? _The incriminating thought stretched out before her like an untaken path.

Breath on the back of her neck notified her of a tall male standing behind her.

"Dany… you know you want me." It was a gamble, saying things such as this, but her conflict was so palpable in that moment, he tested it to see if it was merely a matter of tipping the scales.

"So wrong…" she said, moving away.

She could not be lost to oblivion, Viserys thought quickly. Too many people in their family had gone mad in such a way. "Dany, please listen to me." He grasped her arms lightly.

"Hey." He looked down into her face, his face handsome, him attempting to get a positive reaction out of her.

"Hi," she said in reply, her voice trembling.

"I'm sorry," he said, meaning it. "Please. Just lay down on the bed." He gestured to his large canopy bed on one side of the room and started shifting her in that direction. Once she had reached one side of the bed, he was able to quickly strip off her clothes and tuck her in nicely. It was funny, when she was like this, he had little to no reaction for her excepting his role of caregiver. He leant down to give her a cool kiss on the forehead, and then pulled the covers up and over her.

Without realizing how tired she really was, Dany fell into a dreamless state, her mind rejecting whatever emotions had so recently plagued it.

Viserys composed himself next to the fireplace. Soon she would wake, and it would be time for dinner. By that time, he planned to have a superb seven-course dinner waiting for her to dine, like it had been on the ship when they had been sailing to Dorne. Then, she would be his.

If she had not been very obviously beautiful… what would endear her to him? Well, it was obvious—her humor, her deep, inherent sense of self. Daenerys putting her hand on top of his and telling him he was in over his head. All of these aspects were things he deeply enjoyed, even beyond his own comprehension, to the point where he… needed it.

When she awoke, Viserys was sitting next to her, smiling at her. "There's some wine next to you."

Daenerys didn't want any wine, but, seeing as it was there, she sought to clear her head with it, grasping the glass and pouring the substance down her throat. Seeing that she had imbibed the wine, Viserys smiled smugly.

_He enjoys that I'm drinking the wine…_ she dimly interjected.

She sat up and dried her eyes. When she looked over at her brother, she tried to react lucidly.

"What is going on?" she asked. Viserys lightly placed a finger under her chin.

"I have a seven-course dinner prepared for you."

"Seven courses? I could hardly eat one."

"Select the one that appeals to you then."

Desire began to imbed itself in her subconscious, acting as her sanity and her guide.

"What about you?" She asked, the covers falling from her breasts as she tenderly began to thread her delicate fingers around his collar, touching the ties that held the jacket together.

Viserys remained still. The candlelight illuminated the fire in his eyes. "Do you want me?"

Daenerys brought one of her fingers to her mouth and began to bite on it. "I don't know. You're just so…"

Viserys took the finger from her mouth began to suck on it, the moisture moistening his lips. _Is this what her mind has decided in its subconscious state? Can she now become beholden to me?_

Not wanting to push his luck, he stripped off his clothes and pulled back the covers, getting in beside her.

"You look almost like my twin," she said in a soft tone, pushing a lank of platinum hair behind his ear.

He brought her hand to his mouth and kissed the top of it, his breath lingering over her skin as he looked up into her violet eyes.

Daenerys could feel her pulse begin to race. Something about the naked desire in his eyes consistently pressurized her feelings into a localized craving.

"Do you desire me?" he asked, cupping one heavy breast in his hand.

Slowly, she nodded.

He pressed his lips to hers and felt her respond, at first with great hesitance, then with more vigor as the kiss deepened. As this was happening, his thumb encircled her nipple in slow, counter-clockwise movements, every once in a while dragging the pad of his thumb over her swollen tip. She moaned against his mouth and entangled her fingers in his hair.

Tangential, she responded and watched Viserys seduce her, while the most mild and urbane thoughts flickered through her mind. She felt the stimulation of heat running through her, ebbing her concerns and enhancing her need. As he grasped the back of her neck and drew her in closer and closer to his vanquishing kiss, all she could know was that it felt so much like the sweet pinprick of a needle, sweetly harming her.

Viserys gently bent down to capture one of her nipples with his mouth, and she slipped further down the bed so she could be mounted. With anticipation, Viserys pulled down the covers and lay on top of her, nuzzling her breasts.

It did not take long for them to build up a rhythm, with Daenerys eyes tightly closed, crying out in pleasure. Always knowing what needed to be done to achieve orgasm, they reacted and retracted like true experienced lovers, knowing which buttons to press, how to pleasure one another. When it was over, Viserys drew her to him, laying her on top of his chest as he began to contentedly doze.

Alarmed by her behavior, and yet seemingly powerless to comply with her desire to understand and react in a way that was more forthright, Daenerys considered her options.

She could… say no, and not receive the affection she loved, further endorsing a hatred for herself that would be deliberately unfruitful, and further, anger Viserys in such a way that he would completely be devastated (for after all… she was all he had too).

Or, she could say yes, (as she had done) and received the love she so desperately desired, and still remain conflicted with her love for a man who was complex and in so many ways not a man she could look up to. In the arms of the man who had so recently thoroughly pleasured her, Daenerys found it difficult to justify thoughts of another lover entering her life. And yet… was Viserys to be her only lover? That seemed improbable.

Here they were, the last remaining Targaryens, lovers, in each other's arms. King and Queen.

Something about it made her hate her situation, even as she was loathe to change it. _Something must be done_, she thought, even as she recognized that her love for Viserys was growing deeper and more undeniable.


	12. Chapter 12

.

.

.

When she was awoke she was in a field of fire.

Her clothes were nearly singed off her body, leaving only ragged fringes of cloth that were once an opaque navy blue. When she moved, her joints ached as though she had experienced a collision, or an explosion…. An explosion of fire.

The field was still burning, but now only in embers, here and there a flickering of flame that portended a once verdant bush slowly dying.

Daenerys remembered… she remembered the old maester reading the book, speaking the dark magical words that would transfer the living force of the domesticated animals (two mules and a donkey, animals she hoped would not be missed) to the dragon eggs she had brought, hoping against hope that her efforts would not be in vain…

But there was an explosion, some powder that had been secreted away in the many folds of the maester's robes had passed through the torch he carried, and the narrow shanty they had used to conduct their ritual had abruptly burst into flame…

And after that, she had known no more.

Wiping the ashes away from her cheeks, she did not need to take a look at her body to know that she was completely unscathed by the fire. _A dragon already possesses that knowledge, _her blood pulsed, informing her intuition.

She stood in place, looking amongst her, at the burned pieces of wood where the shanty had stood, at the carcass that was the only remains of the maester, and at the night sky, at the diamonds that roamed through the darkness, always moving, yet always the same, magnificent in their mystery and omnipresence.

And that was when they descended on her, her dragons. Two on one arm, the largest on the other. She was not surprised to feel their weight, only that she had accomplished what she had set out to do. They cried and spurted forth flame.

Daenerys walked the distance back to the castle.

.

.

.

It was twilight by the time she arrived. It had taken her a full day to reach the Water Gardens on foot, and in that time she had realized how to feet her dragons, having found a weakened bird on the ground, caught it, and given it to her little babies. She said a prayer for the life of the bird, but thanked the same deities for the nutrition for her little ones.

Barefoot, she approached the steps of the palace.

Her brother came clamoring out, his beautiful clothes and platinum hair awry.

"DAENERYS!" he cried and ran forth, every step bringing him closer, down the steps. He stopped abruptly, having not seen the emerald, cream, and crimson dragons decorating her form. His eyes widened and he fell to his knees before her, slightly above her, on the platform separating the steps of stairs.

"It… it cannot be believed…." He gasped. He prostrated himself before her. Her dragons cawed.

He crawled up the length of her body, hands stretching for the tangibility of her form, feeling her goodness, reaching her mouth, and kissing her like he was a dying man. The dragons flew off momentarily, circling around their mother, before finally landing on their embracing forms. Daenerys answered his kiss happily, wearily.

It took a moment for Viserys to realize she was not wearing any clothes; feeling her naked skin beneath his fingertips was his first inkling.

Surprised, he disengaged and looked down at her, blushing at the realization. Then he felt the weight of the cream-colored dragon on his shoulder, and he felt weak again.

Daenerys smiled.

It was like the universe had given him the most priceless gift in the world, handed to him by the goddess of his dreams.

Struggling to regain his composure, Viserys shrugged the dragon, then the robe from around his shoulders, and placed it around Daenerys naked form.

She smiled, and they began wordlessly ascending the stairs, tiny dragons flying around them.

Arianne Martell, surrounded by the vast cast of staff of the Water Gardens (anyone who heard and could get away from their duties) stood at the top of the steps, waiting for the pair to arrive. Viserys had the most foolishly cute expression she had ever seen, she marveled, and when she suddenly, finally, partook in the vision of the dragons, she practically had a heart attack. She struggled to think, to act, to do, but she was completely dumb-founded.

Arianne struggled to clear her throat, to keep the darkness away from flooding her sight. She did this by finally speaking.

"I…" but a great, deep emptiness entered her mind, and obscured any words from leaving her throat.

The crimson dragon settled on Daenerys shoulder and let out a small roar coupled with a burst of red flame. Five servants among the Gardens retinue abruptly fainted at the sight.

At this point, Quentyn Martell made a point of clearing the air: "Everyone, go back to your stations. Any able men, please help those who have lost their legs and bring them to a comfortable spot to recuperate. Please disperse, and by the seven hold your tongue about any of this." The last sentence was already a foregone conclusion, evidenced by the tremble of his voice.

Daenerys and Viserys looked at one another, beaming. In the end, it was the Martell siblings gazing at the Targaryen siblings, inspiring looks of fear, admiration, and awe from the former to the later. Quentyn looked very plain next to his bejeweled, vibrant sister, though she only had eyes for Viserys.

Jealous. Was she jealous? Did she sense something between the Targaryens that shouldn't have been? She did not value Viserys' innate integrity as she did Daenerys, who by all means would never cast a come-hither glance to her brother, but it was nevertheless food for thought. She couldn't entirely cast it out, having recently heard rumors of the Lannisters and their wretched incest from none but the most well-informed from their inner circle. Arianne didn't believe it for a second, but it was the most delicious gossip….

All of these thoughts only took the minutae of a second to correlate, and meanwhile the tiny flapping dragons were near enough to even touch.

"How…?" she wondered aloud, the inflection of her tone soft and tremulous.

"I'm sorry, but your Maester died tragically trying to resurrect my dragons." Daenerys apologized, bowing.

"How?" "Why?" the Martells asked, shocked.

"His arm caught aflame with incendiary powder and a torch. I am sorry." Daenerys bowed deeply, her hair cascading to the floor.

"Terrible." Arianne murmured, the loss sudden but fixable. "And you are untouched? How is that so?"

"Fire cannot harm a dragon," Daenerys replied softly.

Viserys wanted to kiss her. Instead he swept an arm around her in a gesture that could only be construed as brotherly.

Daenerys looked up at him and was suddenly wearied, having experienced so much in such a short time.

"Pardon me, Arianne, but I must rest a while. I am very tired."

"Of course," Arianne replied, a trifle jealous of the extraordinary woman she faced.

"I must help my sister," Viserys said, also excusing himself. He gently helped her ascend the stairs to the second level, treating her as though she were made of glass.

Daenerys turned around. "Would you send a servant with fresh meat? My dragons are hungry."

Stricken, the Martell siblings nodded mutely.

Within moments, the pair were gone, including their dragons.


	13. Chapter 13

.

.

.

.

Cersei gritted her teeth and tried not to scream.

"Dragons?" She spat at Littlefinger.

"Yes, my lady. There have been reports of dragons to the South. Only your most trusted advisor has made note of this and has brought it to your attention." He performed a disciplined bow.

"The King is still hunting in his forests. He does not know of this yet?"

"No, my Queen." Petyr affirmed, having erected himself to his usual height and nodded in acceptance of her statement.

Cersei blinked several times and tried to straighten out the facts in her mind. "If there are dragons, there are… Targaryens…" She considered this. "But there are only two that I know of that can be alive. Viserys and Daenerys." She said their names as though they had been burned into her mind; the names had been burned for years now. Cersei lifted her fingertips to her mouth, considering this knowledge.

Rapidly, her mind sought out how best to kill them, and their dragons. She had already sent out Lancel to do her bidding, unfortunately, so there was going to be chaos when her husband—if her husband—returned.

"Unfortunately there is nothing we can do at this moment in time."

"My liege?" Baelish asked, surprised.

"We shall have to wait until my husband returns. He will know what to do," Cersei said, uncharacteristically.

"In the meantime, get your little birds, or spies or whatever you call it, to surmise the situation. No one shall challenge my lord's claim to the title, least of all any Targaryen." Yet even as she said it, Cersei was wondering of them, fearing them, and a part of her was excited by the prospect. She wondered if little Viserys had grown to look like his brother, Rhaegar. If that was the case—maybe she could take a new husband after all. Jaime would be completely out of sorts over it, but the idea was nonetheless exciting.

If Viserys truly was the dragon his brother had been, she might not have to slaughter him after all, though Cersei knew often enough that her heart lied to her when it came to matters concerning it. She had never educated herself after a certain point in such issues, sure that it would come to no good after all. And it was true, in a sense, for the way she felt about Jaime was certainly her most obvious weakness, even if no one knew of it except herself. And the fact that she knew her own weakness so innately was also a curse.

Also, this was assuming he wasn't already married… in her mind, the way she thought of the new brother was much the same as she had thought of the last… untouched, innocent, yet worldly.

And Daenerys—it was hard enough thinking of a little babe as a woman, and thus she was loathe to kill such a young girl—after all she had been young and beautiful herself as well, though the girl was yet to be seen.

After all, Cersei had a certain fondness for Targaryens, even if she did have an acute sensibility for power and ambition. Rhaegar had been a poet, a kind soul. She had never wanted him dead, even when she found that she was not to be his bride. Instead she had found solace in the arms of her brother, and that had made it all better eventually.

Even her children were beautiful, she thought, reminiscing. _Golden days and silver nights_. She remembered them fondly.

By the end of all her ruminations, Cersei's heart was beating wildly in excitement and fear.

.

.

.

.

Once the door to his quarters was closed, and Viserys had made absolutely sure he and his sister would not be disturbed, he took a gander at what he saw and was, once again, tremendously impressed.

Still clad in the white robe he had used to cover her nakedness, Daenerys snoozed delicately on his large, beautifully dressed bed, the tender curvature of her breasts glimpsed through the opening of the garment. She was still but a child, after all, he reminded himself.

As he went to climb the bed to see her, a soft cooing sound from the other side of the room affirmed that the dragons were well, and not getting into too much trouble. If they burned some furniture, then so be it—the reasons for such a thing were too much a novelty to apologize for. He gently stroked her long, silvery hair, and brought the ends to his fingertips to smell.

She smelled of smoke, and the burning of the sun. Her usually pale skin was a darker shade, due to exposure to the sun, and it seemed her entire body had received the treatment. His fingers explored the parts of her body that had been successfully sheathed by his clothing, starting with her hips, then her thighs, and then, with growing ardor, her rounded buttocks.

He heard a soft moan and looked up from his unscrupulous task of exploring his younger sister's body and saw that her eyelashes were fluttering. He wondered if her back ached from the journey and the tumult of raising the dragons.

"Would you like me to rub your back, dearest?" Viserys whispered, kissing her breasts lightly as he trailed his question to her perfect ears.

She let out a small noise that said, "yes," and he smoothly executed the motion of turning her petite body over with some acquiescence from Daenerys.

With his long fingers, he went about rubbing the locations in her back that were the most resistant to his touch, and set about massaging the knots out of her. It took a long time, but whenever he felt himself losing interest, he would focus a little attention to her beautiful, sculpted ass, and thereby sate his need.

By the time she turned over, Daenerys violet eyes were glistening with the slow, steady burn of desire, and her legs rolled open willingly. When Viserys put his fingers down there to test if she was ready, he found she was drenched.

She then made to sit up, and with her hands, reached out for her brother and cradled his face in her hands before she kissed him thoroughly, her tongue finding his and stoking it with hers. She then embraced in her arms, still kissing him, and he collapsed, giving his being to her, covering her with his weight and the unleashed burden of their shared desire.

It was at that moment that the door to Viserys' quarters opened and Daenerys saw Arianne standing at the threshold with one of the maids, who held a key in her shaking hand.

The key clattered to the floor. Viserys eyes fluttered, and he saw in Daenerys eyes that they had been discovered. Slowly, taking great care to cover himself and his sister, Viserys turned around and saw Arianne standing there with the maid covering her mouth in horror.

He closed his eyes and swallowed whatever things he might have said, and merely sat on the edge of the bed. Alarmed, the dragons in the corner of the room began to squeak little bursts of fire and the cream-colored one flew above the chair he was perched on.

There was nothing to explain.

All had been witnessed in that moment: Viserys and Daenerys kissing, not yet undressed, but practically in the act of making love.

"Why am I not surprised?" Arianne, said, crossing her arms. By this time, the maid had fled.

Daenerys stood, not caring that she was not clothed, and slowly, and with great majesty, walked to Arianne.

"I tempted him. I wanted him." Daenerys looked up at Arianne with her cold, violet eyes and saw the slightest bit of fear.

"How could you? He's your brother. I thought you were better than that." Arianne's eyes now portrayed sadness.

A beat. "I'm sorry. More than anything, I am sorry for hurting you, Arianne." The tone of her voice was sad, but did not bely her hidden strength. Not caring about her nakedness, Daenerys tried to hold Arianne's hand.

"You are disgusting," Arianne sneered.

"Your father has agreed to allow me to marry Daenerys," Viserys said, now standing next to the bed.

Arianne looked at Viserys. "You are the one thing I want." She had to swallow at the pride of her statement, still aghast, tumult knocking at her breast like an unwelcome stranger.

Viserys brought a sheet around Daenerys, and for a moment, Arianne was relieved to have her sight alleviated of her nakedness.

Arianne grabbed Viserys hand and took him away from the room. Held back until this moment, tears flowed down Daenerys face and she was immensely saddened to have not foreseen this moment.

Arianne was… many things, but she was also a stranger, even though she was also a friend. She was someone who had called her 'disgusting' and yet also at one point had completely trusted her.

Daenerys moved to the window and sat down on the upholstered chair. Looking over her shoulder, she saw that Viserys had closed the door and she was left with her beautiful dragons once more.

Dany realized that she did not care. And even though she was very sorry for hurting Arianne's feelings, she had only prolonged the inevitable. All of this was meant to be. And she hoped that over time, Arianne would forgive her.

But Daenerys also realized that this was time for her to get started on the next phase of her plan. After all, she wanted Westeros back. Throwing herself into planning would take away this melancholy, even if it was only for a time, and even if she would later have to understand and comprehend her own sadness at having lost a part of herself that was once innocent and unharmed.

Her biggest dragon, crimson and black, perched on her shoulder and breathed fire.

.

.

.

Alone in a room filled with relics of the past, of dragons, of spears, of portraits of ancestors long gone, the two supposed-lovers gazed at each other.

"Arianne…" Viserys tried to say her name, but the words caught in his throat.

"Do you love her?" Her voice sounded pleading, but sweet, and soft; it was as though she already knew it in the deepest part of herself, the most honest part.

"I…" He couldn't lie to her, but he could never tell her the truth.

"She is very beautiful," Arianne murmured, fidgeting in a rare moment of insecurity.

"Yes," a faint blush could be discerned on Viserys' face.

"And she will be your wife as well?" Arianne said jealously.

"Yes," he sighed, feeling like a chastened child.

"When were you going to tell me?" There was an edge to her voice.

"Now. I was going to tell you now."

"I see," she said, turning away.

"You're a jerk," Arianne said finally.

Viserys said nothing, but he could not leave her, feeling a surge of feeling for her, now that she knew all the cards that were on the table.

"I'm sorry," he said, his voice cracking uncharacteristically. "But don't look the other way, just look at me."

And she did, turning her eyes on him, his white shirt open, his dark trousers still sharply lined with the time and attention that her servants put into her fiancée's clothes. He was barefoot.

But his eyes silently pleaded with her, for something, an act she had never expected to occur.

The dim light slanted into his lilac eyes, and his beautiful hair framed his striking face in such a way that he looked charmingly disheveled.

"Is this really happening?" She asked, seemingly to no one.

.

.

.


	14. Chapter 14

.

.

.

On the stone bench on the veranda outside her room, Daenerys sat watching the sunrise. The unfettered ends of her gossamer robe rustled with the early morning breeze, her hem dancing above the ground like lilac petals. Her loosened hair cascaded down her shoulders and back in rippling, un-brushed waves that she felt every once in a while against the back of her arms. Her small dragons, lately fed and played with, gained their "legs" and began to amble across the porch, much to her delighted amusement. They stretched their wings.

With great thought she had considered what to name them. Such things could not be rushed, and she was not one to stand on ceremony.

Thinking back to her history lessons on the Targaryen succession, Daenerys was able to conjure a few viable names that her ancestors would have appreciated, if not approved of.

Daenerion (named after Daena the Defiant, sister to Baelor the blessed, and mother to Daemon Blackfyre—who, auspiciously, was also her namesake) came to the forefront of her mind, and so she decided to name her beautiful, slinky emerald dragon such a name.

By contrast, when her cream-colored dragon hopped into her lap, Daenerys knew almost immediately whom she wanted to name him after. Viserion became his name, for the cream-colored scales on his back reminded him of her brother's hair. He was most exquisite, and when he extended his little wings and cawed, he reminded her acutely of her brother in his younger, more arrogant days when he would spout off about how thoroughly defining he was. Such memories now made her smile, especially in light of how special her little dragon was, and what meaning he and his brethren had brought to her life.

Aemon, the simplest and most forthright of the names, she reserved for her crimson and black dragon, who was growing the most rapidly and was the most audacious in his attempts at meaningful flight.

Some might have considered them to be beasts, or reptiles, for Dany, who was always discerning, and especially for her little loves, she touched their beautiful, glistening scales and felt their very light weight on her hands and there was nothing but appreciation in her heart for them. Appreciation for the little emotions she could tell they now felt, appreciation for their activities, for their individual, sacrosanct personalities, and their budding growth.

Daenerion, Viserion, and Aemon. The names spun in her head, dizzying, like when she was a little girl and she would turn around and around until she fell to the grassy ground.

A little juice would feel good. Sometimes Arianne and Viserys would drink coffee or tea together in the mornings, but Daenerys loved the feeling she received after drinking a glass of fresh blood-orange juice.

She sent her maid to go fetch some, as she was feeling mildly cheered being in solitude with her dragons.

When Mari returned, she arrived with toast, fruit, bacon, and scrambled eggs together with her requested fruit juice on a tray with a cotton napkin and a small blue vase of lilies. By this time, the sun had risen a little higher in the sky and more of her surroundings were illuminated. Even though her surroundings grew more beautiful by the moment, she still felt strangely resigned.

Viserys had not forewarned her that he had cemented the union between them with Doran, nor had she had any conversation with the patriarch to establish that he felt the union was justified.

Now the dressmaker, who had finished her daring Nymeria outfit not just a few days ago, kept knocking on her door asking for her input on her wedding dress.

Twirling the stem of a violet between the tips of her fingers, Daenerys recognized more deeply that these events were happening no matter what.

She could no longer deny her romantic feelings for Viserys. The legitimization of their feelings for each other through a marriage contract was unnecessary however. She did not long to be bound to anyone except herself.

But she loved him. Deeply, and without regret, more than she had ever dreamed possible.

The fact that someone else was marrying him was vaguely disconcerting.

Adjourning from her light breakfast, Daenerys went inside and clothed herself in a long cobalt sheath that shielded her lithe body from the light of the world, and returned outside. Her hair was brushed, but only just, and she wore light silken slippers, the sort that populated her closet like rabbits, whether she wanted them or not.

"Mari?" She called from the veranda.

"Yes, Dany?" Mari replied. They had foregone formalities long ago.

"Please watch over my dragons. I fed them this morning so they will not trouble you. Don't get too close when they play with each other, as I don't want you burned, and they are just getting the gist of breathing fire. Feel free to read a book while you watch over them. I'll be back soon, I'm just going for a walk around the grounds."

"Yes, my lady." Mari inclined her head and went about her task while Dany gently shut the door and exited her veranda through a staircase, descending to the grassy expanse that stretched beyond, becoming the gardens and finally the forest.

.

.

.

Viserys sighed.

He was tired.

Even though he had thrown back the covers of his bed only hours before, he had slept very poorly, tossing and turning, dreaming myriad dramatic dreams that descended into quaking nightmares, which repeatedly forced him to wake up and stabilize his psyche. He was the type of person who tried to forget dreams as soon as possible. And so the nagging sensations persisted and caused him to fret, forcing him to reckon with the reality of his various impending obligations.

It was as though every last indication and warning of impending doom now lurked in the shadows of his mind and caused him to jump even at the sight of his own reflection, inevitably spooking him until he was able to once again right his worrying mind.

_Don't be silly,_ he thought, and reminded himself of his good fortune. His stewards were dressing him, adjusting his cuffs, and dusting the lint off his coat. He wore dove grey and blue. A black three-headed dragon was emblazoned on his silver buttons, was on his cuff links, and, oddly enough, on the buckles of his boots. The dressmaker had gone slightly overboard, Viserys thought darkly, but he was a nice enough man in any case, and his work spoke for itself. The white of his shirt made the contrast of grey, white and blue all the more striking.

Almost as though his fog was the catalyst for time, he was suddenly in the silent, darkened hall where candles reigned over candelabra, casting the medium-size room in a golden glow amidst the reigning shadows.

Arianne stood on the other side of the room, wearing unconventional attire—like the feathers of a peacock, she wore emerald and gold and blue, iridescent colors absorbing the light and reflecting, through slashes in her attire, the glowing aspect of her tawny skin. Curls, like tiny lights, danced down her back, while on her forehead rested a pendant of gold, representing the Martell sun that decorated her family arms. It was not unusual for a Targaryen to marry a Martell, a fact that Viserys had reminded himself of repeatedly, as though trying to reinforce his own actions.

With every step he closed the distance between himself and Arianne, who gazed at him with an appearance that bestowed respect and support. Weighed against his raw, more selfish motives, even he couldn't help but feel slightly chagrined, almost as though he didn't deserve her. Viserys took her surprisingly soft hands in his and looked down on her through his pale, golden eyelashes.

Then, together, they looked at the priest who would be ordaining them in marriage. With great aplomb the wizened man, wearing robes reminiscent of the Seven, began a short historical summary of the marriages of their families, of how this was the latest in a grand tradition of Targaryen and Martell dynastic ties. Arianne caught his eye and gave him a secret smile. Viserys heart lightened a little bit.

Before long, came the exchange of the rings, and betraying no hesitation, Viserys placed a simple platinum band on her hand, and she a golden band on his. They both said: "I do."

Shortly thereafter, Viserys felt his heart break. He leaned down to kiss Arianne's full, red lips, and placed his arms around her in a meaningful display of eternal devotion, and she put her arms around his neck and deepened the chaste kiss, as though to drink in his facade. When he felt her tongue stroke his, he artfully indulged her.

She felt good; she was good. But when he released her, some intrinsic part of his being was relieved.

Arianne's bridesmaids, better known as the "Sand Snakes" gave forth applause and giggles. They seemed happy for Arianne.

When he traveled down the aisle with Arianne's hand inside his arm, he regained a little bit of his levity— the onlookers were gay with delight, and smiling faces all. He chanced to look at the ghost in the corner and saw his sister, wearing a revealing dress of white, gazing at him. As he walked further and further down the aisle, his eyes remained fastened to hers, wondering what she was thinking. But all he saw in her lovely eyes was the tender coolness of a vaguely astonished stare, as though she was just realizing what was happening. He realized in that moment she was sad. He looked ahead and saw the light from the foyer that he was entering and it temporarily blinded his sight.

"He's very handsome,' one of the ladies sighed to Arianne, giving him a greedy look. "Why did you have to marry the last Targaryen prince?" She whispered into Arianne's ear, her words pouting.

"Because I am very lucky," Arianne answered, pushing her heavy breasts into his ribs as she looked up into Viserys eyes.

Doran Martell watched from his wheelchair in the place of honor in this, his more personal version of a foyer. It had been a simple ceremony and it would be a simple reception, one that was hosted close to his quarters. His expression was pleased but not overtly emotional over any of this. The fact that his daughter was happy was meaningful to him, and on the surface, this was all that mattered. He did not trivial his daughter's happiness by thinking of possible ramifications on this, her day of marriage. He had grown to respect Daenerys as more than he had ever dreamed—returning dragons to Westeros was no less than the greatest feat that Westeros had seen since the beginning of dragons when the first Targaryens had left Dragonstone to conquer Westeros.

Daenerys had the dragons, the beauty, the intelligence, the name—all she needed was the wealth of Dorne, and the command of armies. She obviously loved her brother. Even from his handicapped vantage he could see her eyeing him from a sequestered corner of the room. Her love for him would anchor her to one time and place, for elsewise she could have her allegiance divided. Doran would not have that happen, not to Dorne, and not to his daughter.

The crowd parted to allow the lovely young woman to delicately approach the married couple.

"Daenerys," Viserys said, his tone reverent.

"Is that your sister?" One of the ladies, a tall, almost brusque woman of a ruddy complexion asked.

"Yes," Viserys answered, smiling.

There was a nearly audible intake of breath at the young woman's understated elegance. Wearing a simple white dress that showed off her lovely bare arms and her long, slender neck, her downcast eyes conveyed something achingly sad and sweet. With slow, deep movements, Daenerys curtseyed, allowing the very tops of her porcelain breasts to be seen through the flimsy chemise. Arianne felt a pained, red blush flood her cheeks.

Once she had ascended to her natural height, Daenerys took step forward and locked eyes with Arianne.

"Please allow me to address you as my new sister, Arianne." She said demurely, and smoothly, serenely graced Arianne's lips with her own, kissing her.

Daenerys blinked, took a step backward, and walked away. Viserys studied his new bride assiduously, looking for traces of anger, or whatever emotion had claimed her.

But she said nothing, she just remained with her eyes fastened to the girl (for she really was still one, by nearly all accounts) while she retreated to the other side of the room, far enough to be away from all the attention, but close enough to witness it all.

"We must have a toast!" Arianne announced, lifting the hand that wasn't in Viserys grasp.

Everyone adjourned to the marvelous black tables where, miraculously, there were small glasses filled with Arianne's favorite black whiskey, and decanters with wine, and draft beer poured from large casks by experienced bartenders clad in fine clothes with polished airs. Everyone grabbed a glass of their preferred poison, and looked at Arianne with anticipation. A glass of fine Dornish wine had been handed to Viserys and Arianne, and they gazed at each other informally, like old friends.

"To my love, Viserys, and to our continued success in marriage and life." Arianne announced.

"And to my Arianne: may you always be happy when you are by my side," Viserys replied graciously, civil for all his misgivings.

Daenerys held a glass of cool sparkling wine and took a tiny sip. It tasted of peaches and light. She took another sip.

The wedding party itself was comprised of the most immediate family: Quentyn, many if not all of the sand snakes, a few of Arianne's closest friends, and a matriarch or two from an influential, trusted family. Oberyn Martell was not there, as he was gallivanting around with his most honored mistress, though he was privy to the events that were taking place. It was a well-regarded secret, this marriage, but like all secrets, some who shouldn't know, knew.

Soon there were decadent trays of food served; whole fish, delicious displays of candied fruit, pate, and everything in between— the light that streamed through the vast windows grew from a sunshine yellow color, to the more rustic darkened red of late afternoon. Words were bandied around like children playing ball, tongues were loosened, and a good, standard candor was established among the patrons of the party. Viserys casually had his arm around his new wife, and she drank in his presence, unusual for those who knew her. Her most trusted friends saw Arianne genuinely _like_ her new husband, and be satisfied with him, in a way that she had not been with any of her previous lovers.

"It's as though she found something in him she likes," one of her friends was heard whispering.

Viserys was cordial, casual, and kind to those who spoke with him. He had a few jokes up his sleeve that he was able to flawlessly execute, much to the pleasure of those around him. He refrained from overtly looking at Daenerys, she who also appeared to be pleasant and cheerful in her sphere of admirers and acquaintances. It would have been an understatement to say that she was not overwhelmingly beautiful in her pale attire, with her rippling platinum hair, looking on all accounts like a rose in first, fresh bloom. The pink on her cheeks was the only spot of color that could be seen from far away, but he knew that if he were to press closer to her, that he would also see the almost picturesque quality of her intensely violet eyes, bequeathed to her by her heritage.

In contrast, Arianne, the girl who held him close, looked ravishing in an entirely different way. Voluptuous to a fault, she looked both colorful and provocative, dark eyes swimming with sharp, didactic analysis, seeing everything, yet also, more importantly, only what she wanted to see—an aspect he found more and more disturbing. There was a quality to Arianne that compelled him, while his heart resided elsewhere.

Elsewhere: amidst the throng of people, Daenerys eyes followed her brother, watching him laugh and smile, seeing how kind he was being, how the worry and desperation that used to crease his brow was now gone, erased by the overwhelming nature of her hard-won love. She watched Arianne gaze at him with love—it was love, wasn't it? The thought made her startle, and with more acuteness she gazed at the expression on Arianne's cheerful face.

Why did Arianne love Viserys? She had no background with him, surely not the kind of love story she herself had with Viserys, but at the same time, Arianne must have found something within him that was worth loving. It was the kind of revelation that surfaced like a buoy in deep water; the kind of revelation that made her by turns vehement, melancholy, and full of wonder. Daenerys had long since switched to water from wine to ease the burdening sense of shame and anger that flowed through her. It was the blossoming of jealousy, and Daenerys began to hate the way it felt.

If they were just fucking it would not have disturbed her so… at least that's what she reminded herself. But the fact that she _loved_ him was in itself strange and difficult to grapple with.

The band started up and a handsome man with dark brown hair and a stout beard asked her to dance. Daenerys said no, and continued to surreptitiously watch.

Arianne whispered something to Viserys and tugged on his sleeve. There was something wicked in her smoldering eyes, and she bit her lip. Daenerys pulse began to race. Moving forward, of her own accord, she saw them leave the room, and skillfully began to wind her way through the oblivious crowd and to the hallway where they had passed.

Arianne pulled his sleeve and guided him to one of the guest bedrooms off the main hallway.

Any excuses he could have plaintively supplied would have been offensive; he knew it was going to be best to follow her and do what she wanted to do.

He had fucked women before—whores, serving wenches. Had them over tables, and in his bed. Once in a closet where he had locked the door and made her beg him to fuck her before he let her go. He had done unspeakable things to her, but he was certain she had liked every one.

Now with Arianne's ample breasts dancing in front of him he reached out and grabbed one. He realized they were in the bedroom and she was waiting to be kissed.

Arianne pulled him down to her level, kissing him, feeling his hesitant hands on her chest. _Gods, his warm hand felt good_, she thought, feeling the soaring heat of his fingers. She guided his open mouth to her breasts, tearing the fabric and revealing her hard, pert nipples to the open air. Arianne pushed the back of his neck to her chest, making him suck on her erect nipples, which he was perfectly willing to do. He nuzzled her chest and sucked tenderly on her, making subtle sucking sounds that caused her to unexpectedly moan in sudden, ardent pleasure.

Whisking her off her feet, he cradled her and put her on the bed.

"Make me come," she whispered and reached out for him.

From the other side of the door Daenerys heard their movements, Arianne's words. Through the untended crack in the door she couldn't help herself from watching them… make love.

When she realized she was also being watched, she nearly brought forth the blade hidden on her person, but instead feigned a disinterested stare.

"What are you doing here?" she asked Darkstar.

"What are you doing here?" he answered in return.

It was evident enough what she was doing, so she merely gave him more of her disinterested stare.

She didn't want to leave. Some part of her wanted to protect her brother from other curious onlookers, and thus she was reluctant to relinquish her place.

"Leave me alone," she said firmly enough to make him wince, and still maintain the integrity of the silence that reigned through the hallway, clouded by background noise from the reception.

After he had left she realized his impertinence, echoing her as he had, but for the moment she left it alone.

She still heard noises from the bedroom, and it began to tear apart pieces of her, listening to his grunts and her cries of ecstasy.

Daenerys could tell it was done when the woman inside finally cried out. Viserys reaction was more subdued, but she still heard him nonetheless. She concealed a wince.

She still hadn't made any ground in coming to a conclusion as to why she had remained as she was, and listened to them couple, why she hadn't left before when she witnessed them in their first stage of foreplay. Was she so perverted, so sadistic, that she would tempt fate and the gods as she was now doing?

The door opened, and Daenerys was caught off guard. She swallowed, looking very much like a little girl gazing up at her big brother with large, liquid eyes, having seen him do something wrong.

Viserys shirt was open, and his lilac eyes were tender as he looked at her.

"Dany," he said, and she rushed into his arms. She felt cool and excruciatingly soft. He gathered her to him, her platinum hair falling over his outstretched arms.

Arianne watched brother and sister coolly from her vantage on the bed, bedraggled, half-undressed, but with his seed inside her.

With a half-choked sob, Dany began to cry, and Viserys immediately swept her into his arms and carried her down the hallway. It was not a simple trek, but his strength held until was able to get them into her chambers, where he gently laid her down and tucked her in. She extended her arms and he tugged her dress off.

Resisting the urge to kiss her, he laid down beside her and enfolded her in his arms, all other worries carried away by the soft pattern of her breathing that became steadily slower and more natural for her sleep cycle.

He sighed and hugged her to him.

.

.

.

Please comment/review!


	15. Chapter 15

_A/N: _I found a song that just perfectly evokes the way Viserys looks at Daenerys. Imagine her in a vast verdant field, with patches of wildflowers, and Dany in the midst of it. It takes a moment, because she is enthralled with the significance of the tiny insects and flowers she finds there. When she looks up at Viserys, this is the song that captures that moment.

It's "Finding Beauty" by Craig Armstrong.

You can find it on YouTube by typing in the name of the song and the artist. I hope you enjoy!

.

.

.

"Viserys?"

It was the middle of the night. He must have fallen asleep next to her. Viserys had only meant to stay until she had relinquished herself to a restful sleep, but he must have ebbed out of consciousness as well.

Having gently shaken him, his little sister looked down on him with almost gentle amusement, though there was an air of seriousness to her expression that could not be underestimated.

"Yes, dearest, what is it?" He replied immediately, trying to shake the deep slumber that until now had brought him sweet darkness.

She blinked. "Will this change anything?" she began in a low, somber voice.

"I don't know how this is going to end. But you are the only thing that matters in my universe, and the only true, good thing that I have ever witnessed. You are the mother of my dragons, and a true princess, both of this world, and of my heart. "

He faltered; unable to say more, lest his pride sag when he vividly recalled bedding his new wife earlier. It seemed, wrong, a transgression that should never have taken place—but it had, and he could not apologize or cease to recognize that what had happened had not been an eventuality that had been set in motion, for if he did, he knew he would be lost.

"I don't need to be comforted," she confirmed, "I just need to know that what happens between us is sacred. Because," she said hesitantly, " I am confused. For the first time I don't know what's going to happen, and that frightens me."

She and Viserys embraced, feeling the warmth of each other through their clothes.

Even though the Dornish princess was not in the room, a cloud had settled over them, imitating the presence of another in their midst.

With possession of her innate strength intact, Daenerys placed a cool fingertip on her brother's mouth and felt his breath with her tactile senses, focusing purely on his being. Witnessing her witnessing him, Viserys simply allowed her to absorb him, his guilt, past mistakes, the bearing of his love for her, and the finite measure of the life left in him.

Wind blew through the trees outside, knocking on the panes of glass that bordered Daenerys room, comforting in a way that accompanied the contemplative moment.

"What if something truly bad happens?" The question hung in the air. It could have been said by either of the lovers, but this time it happened to be Viserys who uttered the words.

"Let's live in the present," Daenerys replied, the words leaving her mouth in a sound that was a rushed whisper.

Still as a marble statue, Viserys closed eyes moved not at all, thinking in depth of what she meant, and what was implied.

Their mutual understanding was more intimate than a kiss.

At the other end of the long room, Aemon let out a loud hiss, upset at being caged as he was.

Quick as a smile, Daenerys got up from her seated position and hurried to marvel at her little beauties. With a simple turn of the latch on his fine steel cage, she unleashed Aemon, and he perched on her arm at once, comforted by her immediate, maternal presence. He hissed again, his breath becoming smoke.

Viserys remained seated at the other end of the room, but, seeing the action, was compelled to leave his post, moving very much like he was walking through water, his actions indelibly slow and deliberate.

"This is magical," he whispered, finally settling on the lush, vast rug, sitting on his feet. He still wore his dove grey trousers and white shirt, his wedding clothes, but he appeared more disheveled, more comfortable. His forever-silver hair gleamed in the moonlight.

The way he was marveling at her reminded her very much of a little boy looking with wonder at something that entranced the imagination, like watching fish swim in the stream for the first time, or seeing the soaring sunset on the ocean.

Her eyes had seen him, and she sought to pleasure him even more; she let Viserion and Daenerion out of their cages, and settled next to him as they watched her dragons began to associate with one another.

"They are… marvelous," he said finally, fixated.

"They're ours," she said, taking his hand in hers.

"How could you say such a thing? They're clearly yours," he pointed out, flushing.

"I say it because I trust you. Which means that I love you." She was scared to say it, but it was true, and so she was no longer afraid.

"Dany," he said. He caressed her cheek, his eyes gleaming. "Who are you? How did you grow up so fast and so strong before my eyes?" This time he placed a hand over his mouth, taking a deep breath.

"I suppose it happened when you weren't looking," she tried to joke.

"Impossible," he answered, and tilting her chin up, gave her a kiss.

.

.

.

Arianne had fallen asleep in the lull of sexual satisfaction she had enjoyed on her wedding day. Add to that the sudden, vast intake of fine wine, and she was all but lost to the world. When she eventually opened her eyes to the bright sunlight, she found Viserys sitting next to her on the bed, eyebrows slightly raised in anticipation of her awakening.

"Well, hello, there." He murmured, looking quite prim and proper.

Blinking a few times she began to gain the facts that her mind readily provided for her, being out of the faded land of dreams. The guests must be gone, except for a few ardent partyers, which could have been any of her guests (as the Dornish were known for their carefree ways and bracing love for true satisfaction in wine, good weather, and good occasion).

And of course she was married. Hopefully Viserys had done a good enough job the first time so that she could expect a little prince or princess sooner rather than later. Right now, however she was not in the mood to entertain any appetite of the flesh, instead craving a heady cup of coffee and mounds of fruit, cake, sausage, and whatever breakfast food the kitchens would serve.

She sat up from her pillows and realized the clothing she wore would not serve. Heading over to the closets she put on a voluminous purple ensemble complete with silky pants so that she would not need to trifle with a skirt, the way most highborn ladies did.

After brushing her hair and making sure her appearance was as appealing as it nearly always was, she looked over and saw Viserys watching her. His eyes met hers and he supplied no emotion save for a slight questioning air.

"What is it?" she asked, adjusting her breasts beneath her violet sheath.

He said nothing, just shook his head and continued to watch her, as though she was interesting but not overly intriguing. Arianne, surprisingly enough, had not a single problem with this, though she did grab his hand as she walked out the door.

He was scrumptious when he was doing what she wanted him to do, she thought mildly, smiling as she led him to the veranda where they normally took their breakfast. She led him to his seat and she went to hers, and before she looked up from the table she ordered the visions of food that had tantalized her so not more than fifteen minutes ago from a nearby lady servant.

The rising sun blinded her for a moment as she gazed up at Viserys, and she had to shield her eyes to accustom herself to the light.

"What is it?" she asked again, this time refusing to allow merely silence to settle her.

He raised his eyebrows again in a monumental gesture of simply allowing her to have her way, but said something that was fulfilling enough to move the conversation along.

"I am quite happy, Arianne, that you seem to be doing fine this morning. I was worried about you."

His words, such as they were, melted her. Much as she hated to admit it, part of her would always diminish when she again realized the depth of her affection for the Targaryen. Maybe because it wasn't in his nature to truly be so nice to her, or perhaps because he loved someone else—whatever the reason, the fact that she could claim so much of his feelings, of his body, and everything else, made her feel almost giddy, like she had just stolen something that belonged to someone else, and that the item was nearly the best thing the world had produced, an endless fount of pleasure that could be had, ripe for the taking.

"Truly, darling?" she said, despite herself. She tried to stop herself, but the way he was gazing at her, so kindly, with the sun in his hair, and the breeze slipping through her clothing so sweetly, made the moment almost saccharine.

"Of course," he replied matter-of-factly.

She smiled, and he put his hand to her cheek.

Soon coffee was served, and Arianne had her first delicious sip of lightly roasted coffee. It was her favorite blend, and she was astonished as how deeply she savored the flavor.

And she really didn't mind when she saw Daenerys slip into the seat next to her. Now that she had so much to enjoy, she couldn't begrudge the girl for her love for her brother.

And…

To be honest…

She liked Daenerys. There was something eminently likeable about her, since she was strong, kind and quite thoughtful. When she had first glimpsed the cool light in that girl's eyes, and been graced with her smile, she had immediately taken a liking to her that, for everything else, still rang true to the character of her. It was not like Arianne to simply dismiss the qualities of another individual in light of the fact that that person could be competition.

She loved Viserys, but she knew little of that love, and how deep it ran, whether it was shallow as a dappled stream or deep like the abyss of a lake.

Arianne took another sip of her coffee and looked at Daenerys, who was wearing a light blush coral dress, and possessed hair that was braided in a coronet hairstyle, looking very much like a young girl. She leaned over and gave the girl a kiss, as though to imply that all was forgiven and that they should move on.

The look she gave the girl also confirmed this.

She was ready to move on.

The rest of their breakfast passed uneventfully, with Viserys and herself making a little conversation about how the weather was faring and predictions for future weather.

Daenerys was quiet and gazed at them very innocently from time to time. Arianne liked this and began to trust the girl again. When breakfast was finished, Arianne went to meet with her archery instructor.

"Hello, Madame," Heetera said, and bowed to her.

"The usual?" she replied, not mincing words.

"But of course," her instructor replied, drawing the curtain away from her target.

The target was a stuffed straw person perhaps seventy yards away, wearing a purple dress with what looked like a blond wig.

With insinuation, her female instructor, clad in clinging trousers and a frilly blouse, wiggled her eyebrows, somehow in on the "joke."

"Is that supposed to be funny?" Arianne allowed the silence to be more damning than a slap.

"I—I had just heard you saying how you did not care for her, I mean, her ladyship, and I thought it might make you laugh. I'm sorry—"

"It is only slightly amusing." With alacrity, she grabbed her bow and an arrow and took aim.

Heetera took a deep breath, waiting.

But Arianne dropped her stance. "Get it out of my sight and let's get on with it." She barked.

.

.

.

His body moved with acute grace over the bedspread, his long, sinewy limbs in tension before her. With but the smallest of movements, he dipped his head to give her kiss on her big toe.

Dany was only wearing a gauzy dress, not clad for anything more than roaming her room.

"Viserys," she objected, giving him an exasperated look.

"Fine, if you don't enjoy my advances," he muttered, quickly dispensing with his seduction and sitting on the other side of the bed.

"Viserys," she said again, meaning something entirely different.

"I can't help it," he confessed. "I always think of you, of what you're doing, how you are… when I'm in the midst of a dream, my heroine is always you. When I'm alone, my thoughts return to you.

'It's because when I'm with you, I feel alive."

"You are alive," Daenerys laughed, reclining on the cushions.

"Do you understand?"

"I think I do." She smiled and leaned forward, as though to tell him a secret. Viserys leaned closer to hear. From her cuffed hand he heard:

"You're obsessed with me."

Dany laughed and made as though to run away, but he easily caught her and brought her back. She struggled a little bit, until he started to pinch her sides, which truly made her erupt in giggles.

When the hysteria provided by Daenery's ticklish places had subsided, Viserys went on.

"I know I'm crazy. Who thinks about someone as much as I do?"

"Like I said, you're obsessed."

"You're never going to let that go, are you?" Viserys asked, half-submitting.

"Of course I am," she replied. "I just like the anxious look you get when I say that; it's like you know it's true."

"And what if it is true?" He asked, not joking around.

"Then you should know that I love you just as much, and it frightens me just as much."


	16. Chapter 16

He was sitting at dinner again and the feelings that ran like a current through him felt akin as to how they had the first time: anxious, strange, sad, and a little dismal.

He picked at the broccoli on his plate and pretended to care. Clearing his throat, he wiped his mouth with his white linen napkin and backed his chair off of the plush rug so that he might adjourn.

It had been a lonely meal.

For whatever reason, Daenerys had become more distant. Every evening, when night had fallen, and as soon as the corridor where her room was located was clear, he knocked on her door and waited for her to turn the knob. _Daenerys, _he would whisper, his pleas becoming more obtrusive. Finally he would head back to his quarters where Arianne would be waiting for him.

Daenerys and he hadn't made love since he was married.

She was polite, kind to him when she could be, but she paid more attention to her dragons than anything else, inadvertently making him jealous in the process. And when he was fiddling with a pen, thinking about lords and ladies, and the frivolity of it all, and the finality of it all, he became consumed with thoughts of her.

That singular night they had affirmed that the wedding had changed nothing between them, but then… her distance, her sudden lack of interest… it was maddening.

As the days passed, infrequently he would catch sight of her across the gardens or in the hallway, and immediately make for her, scoping the area and ordering the servants away as he saw fit.

Looking down at her, he would tilt her chin up and begin the wanton process of seducing her, pressing her against a doorframe, covering her blushing face with kisses, moaning against her neck… But eventually she would find a way out of his embrace, and warn him in as sisterly a manner as she could muster some prelude to an excuse. The warning in her eyes was enough.

Daenerys was a creature of principle, and she had lost her heart in the most excruciating fashion to a man who could only enfold in her hands paper promises, a man who circumstantially was fated to marry another, and continued to gaze at her with quiet beseeching eyes across a crowded room. In pain, Viserys could only surmise she had fatally realized this and was attempting to extricate herself.

With a flicker of an instant of denial, he extrapolated that maybe if he tried harder, if he again seduced her as he had that night when Arianne was gone, and she had truly let herself go… that perhaps she would fall under his spell again.

And Arianne…. Viserys wiped his mouth with some harshness, regretting, regretting.

They spent time together when they could, and he attempted to be charming, ready to throw himself into whatever activity she had planned, all in the effort of losing sight of those terrible violet eyes and bewitching silver hair.

As often as Arianne wanted to make love, he attempted his best to find some reservation, under the premise that some task had made him busy. About half of the time it worked, and the strangely unsatisfied look on her face followed him as he departed from their bedroom. But there were nights when she would attach herself to him after he had come, those evenings, from Daenerys' quarters and look appealingly at him with those liquid brown eyes, almost as though she knew what he had been doing, and she would preen and show off her abundant charms, and slowly take him the way she was wont to do.

Tonight, however, Arianne was spending the fortnight in Sunspear, otherwise she would be on his arm already. And Doran, who sometimes did join him for dinner, spent most evenings to himself, and so he was once again alone with his thoughts.

Quentyn, who had never been more than an acquaintance, and was off on business in Pireill, where he was sanctioning the building of textile mills, that potential clothes and armor could be made and exported elsewhere in Westeros.

The candlelight did little to lift his mood, and the wine had no flavor.

He had already begun subtle inquiries into those families who had been loyal to the Targaryen supremacy during his time in Westeros, but for numerous reasons, he found the conclusion to his inquiries arriving with families who now had new loyalties to the current guard. In his more confident moments in the Free Cities he had comforted himself with the recurrent thought that once he had arrived, that his supporters would be overjoyed, relieved even, that their long-lost benefactor, their prodigal son, had returned.

But…

That was simply not the case. Still, there was interest in his existence, if the whispers were true.

He was certain that some very influential families knew that he was present, but he did not question that it would be far more prudent to be married to Daenerys and have her dragons grown before he made any kind of structural move. He needed to have his pieces in place before playing the game. Thus secrecy and the isolation that he had grown accustomed to were necessary.

And, much as he was loathe to admit it, against his wishes, Daenerys. Daenerys. Daenerys.

Daenerys in a simple translucent gown, reaching just below her knees, her breasts outlined, pale pink nipples clearly visible; Daenerys crushed beneath him, crying out his name.

Even here recently, Daenerys wearing white (a sign of virtue in a moment of stolen innocence…) walking around with eyes filled with intent, refusing his strong advances, sighing against him even as she struggled to be released of his grip.

The more paranoid side of his nature became resplendent with such thoughts, causing him to become acutely aware of the heat in his cheeks and loins, of being alone in a room, and suspect to being watched at any and every moment. He began to walk to his bedroom. As his heels clicked upon the cool marble, each step bringing him closer to reminders of another, he tried to reconcile the new reality with the more desirable past.

The new quarters were large, among the largest in the palace. Arianne had not wanted the largest, which were so opulent as to be dreary, and so they had settled on another luxury suite with a joined bathing room, parlor, balcony, and vast closets. Eons larger than his previous rooms, Viserys felt he was living in rooms suited for a prince, but he still had the nagging sensation that something wasn't right.

Nagging sensations that implied something was amiss infrequently, but painfully, hounded Viserys thoughts. The idea of feeling culminated in the action of doing, and so he attempted to do everything in his power to correct the flaw, but, perhaps fatally, he had lately realized that unless he was in Daenerys company, he couldn't fully triangulate the problem.

Platinum shanks of his hair fell in his face as he opened the door. His hair was getting longer. Usually he didn't mind it falling to just above his shirt collar, but it had grown another inch or so. He didn't mind it, himself, and so he hadn't planned any action, content to leave it be for the moment.

"Dany," he said, relieved.

She was standing close to the large, canopy bed that had so currently portended another sleepless night.

"Viserys," she said. It was moments like these that he wondered if he was dreaming.

Like waves crashing onto a shore, Viserys found himself instantly awash in the sensation of her, attracted as though compelled by a magnetic force.

"Not so fast." Another female revealed herself from beyond the shadows, and quick as the bite of a viper, two men flanked him and forced him to his knees.

"What is the meaning of this?" Viserys asked, fighting against the immobile strength of the two men who held him in their grip.

Crimson in a voluminous gown, the queen stood before him, eyeing him like he was far too interesting for his own good. It compelled a molten, iron flavor into his mouth. Her golden crown, placed upon her flaxen curls, struck him distinctly; the image made him almost remember his father wearing his crown.

"Let him stand," she said, motioning the action flippantly. Her golden curls, as though manicured to do so, swayed softly with each graceful, precise movement. Viserys ascended the few feet and found himself staring down at her; for all her grandeur, she was still diminutive compared to his long-limbed frame.

"Don't hurt him," Daenerys said loudly, directing attention to herself. When he looked over at her, he saw two assassins digging their hands into her soft arms, flanking her.

For a moment, Viserys, against every fiber of bravery in his being, became afraid, seeing his beloved sister in the arms of men who could and did kill those such as them, for merit of their legacy, past and present.

Unwilling to accept the strength that could paralyze, Viserys struggled more, causing the queen to slap him across the face.

"Do you want to be punished? We haven't even yet begun the process of becoming acquainted."

"Are you going to kill us? You'd better get it over with, my _liege, _because you won't find anything of use here." Viserys bluffed, starting a dialogue.

"Is that so?" Cersei answered wryly. "I see that the rumors of dragons was all for naught. I shall have to teach my advisors for speaking of things they have no knowledge of. But at least I have my dragons here. You shall make splendid captives." She said, smiling truly at last.

Breathing a scarcely audible sigh of relief, Viserys knew that what had occurred here was not completely for naught. But of being a captive…

"You're taking us to King's Landing?" He asked, calculating the next move. His pale eyes met her emerald ones.

"Well, we're certainly not wasting time here." She replied, granting him an answer.

_That's right…_ Viserys remembered. With so many of the Martell members of the family gone, it had been tragically easy to abduct them.

He then remembered that Robert Baratheon would be presiding over them, and he began to frenetically pull against the men, this time with rage in his heart and fear on his mind.

"Your husband won't _keep_ us as captives, once he catches sight of my sister and I he will kill us as certain as winter comes." he spat.

Cersei paid this no mind, for as strong as the young man might be, he was no match for her Kingsguard. But it was refreshingly nice to slap him and perhaps make his pale cheeks red, and so she did so with a resounding _slap._

Viserys blinked hard, his cheek stinging. He hated her more now than ever, and it shone in his light eyes like an incriminating beacon.

"You don't need to speak of my husband. He no longer has anything to say about it," she trailed off mysteriously.

A beat.

"You shouldn't have come here." Daenerys uttered, her voice deadly.

Surprised at the remark, Queen Cersei turned and looked over her shoulder at the pale young girl in the nightgown that had been ripped over her right breast.

"You were such a pleasant diversion. I'd rather save my time with as little out of you as possible. I have enough insipid ladies in my life and I am loathe to add you to the list."

"Insipid? That's a cruel word," Daenerys replied slowly, the words oozing out of her mouth with something like detestation.

"You clearly have never been to court." Cersei dismissed her—the young dragon girl appeared as though she could scarcely do more than preen. It was interesting, upon brief reflection, to see that both the Targaryens had the same aversion in their eyes for her. It was like they had never expected something like this to happen, and the fact that it had actualized meant that something dramatic was about to occur.

Momentarily, she was caught off guard. Within the same instant that she turned away from the girl, Cersei heard a wounded groan and a thud. Breathless, she suddenly whirled around, but instead found the girl's arms wrapped around her neck from the back, with what looked like a blade of dragonglass held in her hand. And it was at her throat. And so were her suddenly very strong hands

"Let him go." Daenerys demanded.

Blind fury exploded in Cersei and she screamed, "Kill him!"

As the guards began to grab their swords, quick as lightning, Daenerys slit the queen's throat and leapt across, knifing one of the men in the cheek, having aimed for his face. Surprised, the guard let go of Viserys. In the same movement she had made to slit the guards throat, she now grabbed her beloved's arm. Viserys had also taken this moment to react, roughly pushing the other guard away.

Escaping out the doorway, Daenerys grabbed one of the oil lamps and threw it down, making the floor explode into a shower of fire. They ran out the hallway, hand in hand, while Cersei's screams echoed like a banshee through the marble interior of the castle.

"The dragons, Mari has them," Daenerys panted as she ran as fast as she could. Viserys followed her to where presumably the servant girl was.

Down a hallway, taking a left, now down this corridor…. The girl was waiting with a wan face, clasping the dragon cage tightly in her arms.

"Your Grace" she murmured, her eyes large with fear.

"it's alright, Mari, you've done splendidly. I will always be indebted to you for your loyalty and kindness." She kissed the girl on her forehead and took the dragon cage, handing it to Viserys.

"There's a secret corridor down there," Mari extended a finger toward a shadowy corridor of the dingy room.

"And here, take this." With shaking hands, the servant girl extended a small ornate wooden chest.

"My locksafe box. Thank you," Daenerys said, breathing a sigh of relief.

She smiled. "I knew that you would want it," she said, her eyes glistening with tears. Dany worried what would happen to Mari, but also knew that when everything came crashing down, that she would be alright; she was a resourceful girl, and a true friend.

Not wasting another moment, Viserys opened the trap door and they dropped through the darkness down five feet, the dragons blessedly quiet for all the tumult, and ran.

They ran for their lives, for everything they had struggled to have and had already lost.

They ran until they could run no more, through the damp aisles of muck, until there was a barred escape hatch that finally displayed the light of the night sky, a pale kind of wandering light that fit their terrible predicament.

When Viserys tried to open the latch, he found it rusted shut. He then, out of aggravation, cursed and kicked the damn thing with the steel toe of his leather boots, because it, like the ancient stone walls, appeared just as impermeable.

"Stand back," she ordered her brother, and positioned her dragons in front of the barred gate.

"_Dracarys,"_ she ordered them, her tone silk and steel, having trained them in the intervening weeks while she had isolated herself from everyone around her.

Blessedly, dragon fire ensued from the Valyrian steel cage, and with a little coaxing, the gate melted away like paper.

She cautioned him to wait a moment, for getting burned by still hot metal was not an experience she would choose for any of them to take part in (never mind she was impervious to heat), and within a moment's haste they were outside.

"We can do this?" Viserys said in a half- statement, half-question, still in shock over the churning sea of events that had just transpired so abruptly.

"Of course we can," Daenerys said, and lit out for the darkness.

.

.

.

In the time that Viserys was in Dorne, he had done some strategic planning exercises, sometimes out of boredom, mostly out of necessity. Following the charted stars, they headed south, for the coast, as it was the most isolated part of the map, and the path least prone to attack.

It seemed the Targaryen siblings both recognized how precarious their new situation was, and accordingly conversed little and walked a great deal. They tried to do the majority of their walking at night, when they would not be spied, and doubly, so they could get the most traveling done without wasting precious resources.

On the second evening, while Daenerys was feeding her dragons, Viserys chanced to ask her a question.

"How did you do it?" he asked her archly, still disbelieving the intensity of her actions that night, how correctly and flawlessly they were all executed.

Knowing what he spoke of, Daenerys held her breath almost as thought she was proud and yet hesitant to be aware of what she had done in those excruciating moments when she had cut the queen's throat and aided in their escape.

"Do you want the truth or a lie?" she asked, unable to give at first a straight answer.

Viserys just looked at her. Darkness except for the campfire, which coaxed the shadows into remission, the smell of smoke and fresh sea air, the stars. The paleness of his features was awash in the orangey color of the fire, but the possession in his eyes was his.

"The lie is that I knew exactly what I was doing. That I never lost my faith in the fact that we were going to get out alive." She paused.

"The truth is I was so scared that I reacted as I only could, and that I wish I could have done it better."

"You bitch." Viserys scoffed at her.

"What?"

"Your answer didn't even answer the question. And your answers were perfect. You have only succeeded in proving the point." He laid back and kicked off his shoes.

Still wearing her ripped, soiled nightgown, she felt vaguely jealous of Viserys state of dress—at least it was appropriate for walking around town. While she did not mind the nightgown in and of itself, it was only a matter of time before someone unsavory crossed their path and found them, and her, as they were.

Remembering her lockbox, which contained jewels, gold, a few other precious trinkets…. And her Nymeria outfit—the fact that she remembered so belatedly that she had stashed such a precious article of clothing only served to underline her current anxiety.

She walked to the other side of the campfire on her bare feet (for alas she still had no remedy for that) and found her lockbox; larger than a jewel box, and smaller than a chest, it was made of driftwood, making it very light, in spite of the heaviness of gold, silver, and jewels. Of course the lightness of the outfit had, among other factors, made her forget its existence.

Turning the specially designed latch, which she had grafted from another box, and which of itself was of a puzzle design, the box opened and, of course, on the top, sparkled her newest edition to the stash. Retrieving it and closing the lid, she laid it upon a rock. There was no reason to wear it until morning, and then, she would be excited for a change, particularly one that so perfectly evoked the story of her ancestors.

She had no plan to marry into House Martell, her brother had already accomplished that feat, but she would do her ancestor one better. Riding dragons, she would conquer Westeros.

She had already slit the queen's throat.


	17. Chapter 17

.

.

.

When she awoke the next morning, twilight still presiding over the cobalt sky, the first image in her mind was of a dreamed vision of Nymeria, on the starboard brow of a ship, and of her faceted eyes becoming accustomed to—acquainted— with the rugged coast of Dorne.

She felt for the leather outfit she had wrapped around herself for warmth during the night. At last, an article of clothing that would suffer no wrinkles, never need be maintained like any ladies clothing would, an outfit that would enable her to run and jump as her ancestor had, and, for reasons of utility, clothe her in such a way that most would hesitate to poach her at this most vulnerable moment; the newly oiled leather spoke of a woman who would never bow down to any resistance.

Slinky and anachronistic, the cloth traveled over her smooth flesh like the scales of a snake. When it was on, and everything adjusted correctly—for the bodice was more complicated in structure and assemblage than had first appeared—she felt rejuvenated with excitement and pleasure, Looking down at her form, she realized that had her figure not been as athletic as it was, the outfit would have been unforgiving, but as it was made for her proportions, and with the detailed workmanship of a master tailor, it appeared destined for her.

Blood running through her veins with unending alacrity, she completed the ensemble by braiding her hair in such a way that it would be out of her way, wrapped around her head in a coronet hairstyle, tucking the ends of her platinum hair in as she saw fit. Next, she took the ruined nightgown and fashioned a turban out of it, so that she could use the hem as a veil against the sun and sand.

When Viserys awoke shortly afterward, rubbing the grime of the windswept sand out of his eyes, he cast his penetrating gaze over at his short, slender, and yet apparently tremendously athletic sister. He hadn't seen that much of her body outside of the bedroom, and seeing it in the early morning light made her seem a different, more warlike creature.

"So—where did that come from?" were the first words out of his mouth. He had witnessed her fiddling with something last night, but being tired and bedeviled with aching blisters on his sore feet, he had been more preoccupied with the more primal pangs that come with traveling through a desert.

She swiveled her neck and looked at him over her shoulder, having been gazing fixedly at the sunrise beforehand, and next turned back to him, revealing the outfit in its full grandeur.

"It was something I had made," she said, understating her enthusiasm with humility. "This is apparently a replica of the outfit Nymeria wore when she conquered the Rhoyne with her ten thousand ships."

"Apparently I went to sleep too early last night," he muttered, wondering where on earth it had come from, but knowing that for lack of her spending the entire night sewing leather and cloth together, that it surely had come out of her driftwood chest. She looked too happy and well rested for it to be the former in any case.

"Come here," he ordered her, becoming her big brother once more.

She pranced over, loving the feel of the fabric on her skin.

She kneeled on the ground, resting on her feet as she sat next to him. Still in his fashioned bed, the weight of his torso on his extended arm, with his other hand he gently lifted the fashioned turban off her head and placed it on the driftwood chest, which remained always within hands reach. Then he ran his fingertips over her braided hair.

"I suppose you learned how to do this when you were fifteen?" he asked, his mouth a grim line.

"One of the maids taught me when we were living in Braavos. So, yes, your presumption is correct."

"I remember many ladies wearing this hairstyle. It's an effective hairstyle to know how to do when you have long hair." He surmised.

His bed of sand had not been comfortable, nor had it been likely. He then sat up, and brushed the sand off his trousers and reached for his long jacket, which had been used as a blanket.

"Would you like me to help you with your hair?" She offered, half-joking.

"Not likely," he sneered, protectively touching the traditional slender braids he had kept since leaving Pentos.

"It's getting a little long…" she observed cheekily, playing into his vanity and stubbornness.

"Shut up," he pouted ruefully. Long or short, his hair was such as it was. In that regard his singular wish was that it would remain a certain way so that he only had to fuss with it as much as he wanted to. Being that they were in the desert he was unfortunately fussing with his long hair far more than usual. There had been a daily servant whose sole duty was to arrive at his rooms and help him get coiffed in the mornings, but obviously this luxury was none too close at hand.

They also needed to bathe. Food, safety, and everything else was a constant concern, nagging like little fish needing to be fed.

Though she looked lovely, a little warrior princess in leather, he felt unexpectedly nostalgic for earlier times when she was just, simply, Daenerys.

He remembered having her trail along behind him as he walked through halls, occasionally reaching back and finding her hand when she periodically stopped to look at portraits and paintings that kept the hallway resplendent. Such reveries inevitably turned to her current state, her childhood forgotten in lieu of her adult beauty. Her warm hand. Her dreamy eyes.

"When we get back to civilization, and you are my queen, I expect you to wear your sheer purple gown and have your hair simple, and down—ah, yes, like right before we set sail for Westeros."

She blinked, deadpan. "The sheer purple gown you speak of was meant to tempt Khal Drogo."

"I liked it on you," he said simply, a twinkle in his eye.

.

.

.

Furious, and all in an instant, Arianne forthrightly determined that things had occurred which never, ever should have occurred under her roof.

The queen was gone, with all her retinue. Arianne knew she had been here, because not only was her blood spilled all over her bedroom, but also the remaining servants who had not been driven off or killed had said as much.

"Where was Hotah? Where was everyone? Who could have stopped this?" She screamed, unable to control herself.

"Calm down," her father said, attempting to reassure her. He would be lying if he said he didn't ache, not only with his deeply troublesome health, but with the lamentable decision not to check on his new son-in-law, as he should have that terrible night. Like assassins they had crept in, killing guards left and right, almost killing the Targaryen heirs. Doran not only felt indelibly responsible, but also shared a common thread with his daughter—he was furious.

When he spoke, his voice resounded with resoluteness, his tone low and fine. "We will get them back. They could not have gone far. The roads are plagued with runaways, brutes, sellswords, and pirates. It shall be a miracle if they are not abducted, but with our soldiers out there combing the land, I'm sure we shall find them and rescue them."

Gathering his breath, he continued. "The servant, Mari, I believe her name is, has told me that she helped them escape. It was not easy, mind you, to glean the information from her shy mouth, but she was very heroic in her actions. She said that they took the south passage, which makes me assume they left for the coast, where there is relative isolation. Mari of course will be rewarded for her information. Should they come back she shall be doubly rewarded."

Somehow, her father's words made Arianne feel better about the lackluster affair. Still looming were despair and injustice, the emotions she sought to fight. She lacked her husband, the father of her unborn children.

The attempted kidnapping, the escape, brother and sister runaways—the events made her tremendously uneasy. Even one such as Viserys Targaryen could be targeted and nearly kidnapped; she was lucky he was even alive. What had happened? Just after asking herself that innate, pertinent question, she ceased the platitude of thoughts, knowing they would only hamper her in her quest.

"How many scouts are being sent out?" she asked her father.

"All of our best. Sooner or later they will come back with information. I hope that even if our scouts don't come back, perhaps the Targaryens will."

Another thought manifested itself, almost repugnant. "And of Cersei? She lost a lot of blood."

"If she is not dead, she shall not be troubling us again, at least not in the same fashion. We have a lot to consider, though. We should start calling our banners. Robert Baratheon is dead, and we need to gather as many of our men to us as possible in this precarious time. With the Targaryens we have the trump card."

"I hope you're right." She said, and disappeared down the hallway.

.

.

.

They were near the water's edge, where the perfume of salt exhausted all other smells, seagulls cawed in the distance, and a lone sailboat cast a net in the distance.

To either side of them, there was empty sand, a long juncture of fields of dunes of sand, and far off in the distance, some cliffs.

Her dragons were growing bigger by the day. When it was prudent, she would let them out of their cage and she would play with them. Usually, on the trail, she might spy a dead animal being scavenged by vultures and release her dragons upon the animal. They did a wonderful job scaring the vultures away and claiming the animal for their own.

Otherwise, food was hard to come by. They had come to the water's edge in the desire to find and catch fish, though she had never fished before in her life. Viserys had grumbled that he alone _did_ know how to fish, and with a few rudimentary items he had fashioned a fishing pole. Daenerys, for her part, still possessed her precious blade of dragonglass, and had conjectured that she could attempt to spearfish whilst in the water.

While Viserys had been attaching the line to his pole, Daenerys was winding a leather thong around her blade and a found branch that would provide a good handle.

It was a long shot, but her hunger was stronger than her pride, and so her attitude adapted to suit her new circumstances. If she was going to get through this, then she'd best start learning more new things.

They were at the water's edge, toes of the tide edging ever so slightly closer. The sun was still high in the sky. Clouds misted over the horizon, casting a grey color over the day.

Daenerys turned to her brother and she gave him a chaste kiss on his lips, for good luck, but when she tried to pull away, she found that his arms were fastened around her like a vise, and that he was looking down at her with an engaging stare.

It was the same stare he had bestowed upon her those weeks after his wedding, when he had found her passing through a room, an air of seeming nonchalance, only for her to be pinned against some stone wall, or whatever surface available, and pressured to let him have her, his need pressed against her buttocks or thigh.

"Didn't think you could get away that easy, did you?" he asked rhetorically, looking down at her with his cool, hard gaze before he gathered her to him and pierced through the charged atmosphere with an appetite for the slender scent of her neck, devouring her.

"Oh," she uttered, the breath captured from her as he pressed his greedy mouth to her throat.

"We need heirs,' he whispered conspiratorially, tasting the lobe of her ear.

"True Targaryens." The words sounded like rapture, and Dany couldn't help relinquishing whatever boundaries she had put up in an excuse of a defense against him.

She fell to the ground in the sand, her brother soon after her, his tongue in her mouth, the ecstasy of her drowning out all other sorrows and woes.

They spent a long moment simply kissing, her hands on his face, and his hands on her waist. Dany then let her hands descend to explore Viserys hard back, the smoothness of what she found there, before she again hugged him to her, loving the feeling of him in her arms.

On the sand, nothing else for miles around, they were decidedly exposed, the sky stormy with electricity in the air.

"Prince," she whispered in his ear, driving him wild. "You're my _prince_."

"Queen," he said, looking her in the eyes. He captured her mouth in his, and almost felt like if he waited any longer he would die.

That wondrous hardness was pressed to her opening, and though they were both clothed, it was an agony of ecstasy finally pushing away the clothing until he was suddenly, very suddenly, thrust inside her.

She gasped, not quite ready, but not wanting to let him leave. He exhaled in relief when he was inside her.

"You want this, you know you do," he whispered, slowly giving it to her, letting her feel him inside her, feeling her wrapped around him.

She could say nothing, the ecstasy dizzying in its power.

He rutted against her, finally knowing that this time, _this time_, he would have her, release his seed inside her, knowing that her taut, firm body would finally receive his child. She was so strong, and so damnably smart, that he would conquer her, even as she conquered himself, but he would have the last laugh, for that hard belly that was tense beneath him now, would bear the child he desired as he desired to consume her very innate soul.

And she would be his again, and again and again. This knowledge made him harder, made him last longer even as she released herself to him in this most tender moment.

"You're mine, you're my beauty," he whispered in her hair, making her feel his hard heat.

Seconds ticked by like the pulse of the heart, each building moment transgressing into another more explosive inertia.

As though the sky reflected the rhapsody in the environment between them, a release was found, an exquisite breaking point that caused them to necessarily roll away from each other, having found that overwhelming pleasure that makes some people die, and some live longer.

Panting, they did not part from each other, the closeness necessary, while they recuperated.

"I love you," she said, when at last she had found the words to express how she felt.

He turned to her, his shirt open. "I love you, Daenerys. Weighed against everything I am, and have ever been, you are the only thing I do not regret."

She closed her eyes and felt the emotions wash over her like waves of the sea.

Time passed.

Tired and hungry, sunburned on her cheeks and shoulders, physical remembrances gradually returned to her as the ache of her love for this man began to reside into the steadfastness of her feelings for him.

Once he had regained himself, he began to fish, standing in the water, casting his long baited line, pulling and tugging the pole to tempt capricious fishes in the tempestuous waters.

She watched the process for a moment, still shaken by their lovemaking session.

The water of the sea began to ripple, and showers of rain began to fall from the sky. Viserys gathered his line, grabbing her driftwood chest in the process. Her dragons, probably hungry, began to caw, and they ran for the shelter that the rocks in the distance promised.

They held hands as they escaped the rain.

.

.

.

It had been yet another day without word from any of her scouts. Upset, as a word, didn't truly begin to cover how she felt.

As though a part of her that had begun to blossom was suddenly yanked out of her reach, she flailed to find that uncertain flower amidst the chaos and doom that its flawed disappearance had made.

She couldn't get his touch out of her head. That hesitant, almost yielding trust that had built between them when words couldn't be exchanged, no matter how forced the circumstances.

If she knew her heart, it would have said, "_Look at what happiness has brought you, that without it, you are devastated."_

Her heart would have told her the things she didn't want to hear, the things that kept her holding Viserys so tightly at night that he woke up with her arms around his neck, breathing into his nape.

At night, what helped her go to sleep were the times that she remembered what she had, and that it, unlike anything else, had brought meaning into a life she scarce had known could exist such as it now was.

And now he was gone, gone, gone.

Like pinpricks of goose bumps of clattering, reckless anger, her residual jealousy and anger towards herself, towards life, culminated in this individual, unceasing search for her beloved.

Even if he was not truly hers.

She saw the way he looked at Daenerys.

And she knew the way she looked at him.

And that—singularly—was what powered and motivated her actions.

_Actions speak louder than words._

And so her love was to search for him, and find him. Yesterday she had climbed on horseback herself, and but for her father clamoring for her, warning her that should she leave, anything and everything else could be lost, she would never have relinquished that ride to find him.

Broken, bursting with maddening inactivity, she had left the mount and charged up the stairs to the lit fireplace in the foyer, where she promptly threw a priceless crystal goblet into the fireplace, watching the crystal edges explode into a thousand drops of ice amidst the hot, hot fire.

.

.

.

That night, they were in the shallow cave, eating the five fish they had caught during the day. It had not been a bad days catch, for inexperienced beginners, but they needed to become better faster, for the dragons were hungry, always cawing for more or to be let out of their rapidly diminishing cage. They were now almost the size of cats, and the cage would only do for a limited amount of time. They were not heavy dragons, but Daenerys foresaw a time when they would be monstrously large.

They needed safety. It was dizzying, the weight of pressure upon her soul.

"Daenerys?"

She looked up to the driest corner of the alcove where they were beached and saw Viserys leaning against the cool rock wall.

"Why did you let me make love to you under the sky, on the beach, in the middle of nowhere, and not in the palace?"

She looked down at the area between her extended legs, at the light of the campfire that flickered there.

"It's because as much as I wanted to believe that I didn't care about Arianne being your wife, I did care. I'm not proud of my selfish jealousy. And I don't entertain any childish thoughts that I could somehow change the way I feel."

"I don't love her." He said, the words cold and echoing in the cave.

His sentiment crashed over her like a wave of relief.

"I know that if I lived a million miles away, that I would find a way to find you." She replied softly, the fire reflecting in her violet eyes.

Silence reigned.

"That's the way I feel about you," He said in answer, the solemnity of his words reinforced by him coming behind her and enfolding her in his arms. He kissed the side of her face, and was surprised to find moisture there.


	18. Chapter 18

"My soldiers found you." She uttered finally, looking down upon the twin platinum blond heads before her. They were grimy from the desert, their clothes tousled and torn, and there was a vaguely salty, windblown scent that had permeated the vented air from a distant open window.

Arianne pivoted on the dais, her silk-clad feet practically prancing in the singular line that she had designed for herself to walk, her emotions being so high-strung that by minimizing her movement in such a fashion, she was able to recount the words she had dreamt of saying for such a moment. Such a cherished, yet dreaded moment.

Gazing down at her feet, she began to speak again, her voice as fluid as a slowly churning river.

"My best agents say that the lions in the Red Keep are nursing their wounds for now, but that we have to expect another attack. Word has spread like wildfire that you two are alive and well—a fact that I am only too glad to once again report. That said, the banners being called are indeed strong banners—but they come from those who have always held a close allegiance with the Targaryens, and not more of the necessary lords of importance that would give us sway in this war."

She looked over at Daenerys. "We need your dragons."

Looking up through eyelashes silvery, glistening with light-refracting granules of sand not yet wiped away, Daenerys smiled a very slow, gradual smile. With her clothes of leather and tan of gold, she seemed to emanate a kind of ridiculous confidence that belied her meager state. She stood in place, her feet slipping across the tile with the swagger of a trueborn princess.

"I need a king. I need the ceremony, the pomp, and the wealth to command an army. Then you shall have the gateway to the Iron Throne."

At the mere mention of the Iron throne, all in the room tensed, with the special exception of Daenerys, who stood with conviction.

"And if I am the one to unite us, you must be the one to pave the crossroads to which all things meet." Her words, silky soft, were as persuasive as providing a bevy of nectarous roses to a single honey bee.

"You're right." Arianne admitted, knowing her role in this would be the one she was born to play.

"But if you so much as think that I'll let your brother go, you've got another thing coming." The threat, clumsily made, ultimately betrayed her true feelings. At once, Arianne regretted her words, and said as much in her next statement.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to say that." She choked, flushed with embarrassment, her heart thudding darkly in her chest.

Daenerys knew when it was time to make a swift exit. She already knew that the older woman had acquired a remarkable fondness—no, love—for Viserys. It was dangerously troubling. Bowing deeply, Daenerys left the room, guards following her. She would climb the stairs and pass through all the necessary hallways to reach her chambers and take a very long, excessively hot bath. As she left, the dragons, who had grown remarkably large with fish and carrion since last Arianne saw them, screeched and clamored as they flew after her. There was no cage to hold them anymore.

Likewise, all the other soldiers and guards left the room, providing the lovers their time.

Viserys slowly looked up from the floor, his gaze clear and focused.

"My dear Arianne," he said softly, and raised his arms to her as he ascended to his natural height.

"Viserys!" she cried, finally able to unleash her true feelings, running across the darkly lit anteroom and into her husband's arms. He smelled of sweat, sand, and fish, but he also smelled like her one true love. Closing her eyes, she squeezed him, feeling his muscles through the soiled, once-fine, linen. Words could not express the exquisite feeling of wonder that coursed through her; after all the searching and wondering and waiting, an interminable framework of weeks, he was _here_, in her arms, tactile, real. When her dark eyes finally met his shaded, lilac ones, she arched on tips of the balls of her feet to kiss him, balancing herself on his upper arms and shoulders.

The kiss was crushingly sweet—Viserys obliged her single-minded passion quite warmly, his arms encircling her voluptuous form with gratifying force.

"I hoped you would come back," she said, her voice, in a word, relieved.

"I did too," he said, whispering against her hair as he crushed her to him. He laid a few traitorous kisses upon her hair, feeling compelled to do so for the mere fact that she was simply too heartbreakingly lovely to resist—too sweet and caring to turn a blind eye too. As she looked up at him, her heart-shaped face just above her ample, jutting breasts, Viserys felt once more compelled to lay another kiss on her temple.

With every passing moment, Viserys felt himself betraying Daenerys, felt himself, dreamlike, becoming flushed with Arianne irresistible sweetness. With ease, he felt his body react to her.

Gently, he pushed himself back, away from her, becoming flushed in the process. _Careful, Viserys. You have a role to play: be her husband, love her, but don't lose yourself. _

Some part of himself would forever be faithful to Daenerys, and he had reconciled that long ago. But he also knew if he was not careful, moments like these would truly endear sweet Arianne to him in a way that would ultimately harm his little sister. Who was he without her, anyway? He cringed that he would betray himself in such words.

_Love is strange_, he thought, giving Arianne a crooked smile.

"I'm just glad you're back," she said, already feeling the distance, and wanting to diminish it by remaining at his side. She grabbed his hand, and led him out of the room.

* * *

><p>The hairbrush pulled through her hair with little resistance. Daenerys had passed the previous few days anxiously planning and waiting for the next tidal wave of change, and not feeling it had been as foreboding as simply experiencing the crush. She put the hairbrush down restlessly. Tomorrow she was to be married.<p>

Daenerys pushed the chair from her vanity back a little so she could begin to walk around the room. Perhaps a little walk through the woods would do her some good? No, she thought. Such an idea only invited inevitable unknowns, and she was loathe to excite the tendencies of such an idea. And yet, remaining in her room was not any option either. She was half mad with learning to be patient, and her dragons knew it as well, screeching with fire in the room across the hall that had been provided for them.

It all begged the question.

Every time she crossed paths with Arianne, the woman had nearly spit venom at her, making things more difficult by the passing moment. It was Daenerys philosophy to wait and see how things panned out instead of riling up a viper's nest. If there was a time to act, it was certainly not now, when so much hung in the balance.

Her brother was her only confidant, and yet she still felt that inevitable unwillingness to completely immerse herself in every last foible her brother had to provide. And yet… she caught herself.

It would be good to see him, she decided suddenly. She missed him. He was very nearly a part of her.

Opening the door of her bedroom, Daenerys swept through the hall, her long ivory dress catching the various drafts of air that passed through the marble halls, cascading in clouds of lace around her ankles. As she turned yet another corner, her unbound hair caught the light, and reflected it in shimmering waves.

Faceted, her violet eyes sought her brother's form, as he was reclining on a lounge chair, in the middle of reading a book, the title hidden. Sudden joy filled her as she moved forward. It felt like her self-enforced seclusion had taken a toll on her emotions, thus as she strode forward, each step seemed to buoy her toward a higher, more heavenly atmosphere.

"Brother," she said, her voice sounding whispery and light in the cool room.

"Ah, sister," he said, putting down his book and turning toward her with a smile. Toothy as it was, she was happy to see it, and relinquishing all worries, she sat down on the arm of his chair with swan-like grace.

Viserys arm encircled her hips, and he was happy to feel the lush fullness of her hips beneath the silkiness of her clothes.

"Are you ready to marry me tomorrow?" He asked, his words civilized for all the latent promise of his lust.

"Yes," she said, her tone forthright. She was ready to marry him. Their embraces had all promised as much, ever since that first night on the boat when he had taken her virginity, and she had cried out in absolute pleasure. Such thoughts brought a flush to her cheeks, and her eyes combed his, searching for a similar reaction.

Like a capricious cat, Daenerys had tested his worth and judged him to be worthy, Viserys realized. And it wasn't merely the possession of each other that was so significant, but the true understanding of one another that had led to the ultimate satisfaction of becoming one. He now knew he would continually have to be kept on his toes to be worthy of her, but he rather liked that notion, as it challenged him to be a better man. Within him there was… the inevitability of madness and the peripheral lurking of bloodthirsty ambition. But with Daenerys, those capabilities were quelled, if not extinguished entirely.

_And what of Arianne?_ The question came unbidden, like an unexpected combination of treasure and obstacle. It was quite a question, and one he didn't know if he could ever truly answer.

As Viserys' eyes focused upon Daenerys' purplish-blue ones, within the cool light, and the faint fragrance of jasmine, he felt truly complete.

When she reached forward to gently tilt his chin up to kiss her upon the mouth, it all felt like an evocation of the past, of that night when they tempestuously danced in their spacious cabin, incestuous desire churning within him, causing him to quake with want. With achingly slow protocol, Daenerys laid the barest thread of her lips upon his, breathing lightly on his mouth. He breathed her in before crushing her to him in a simple, yet devastating movement of unbridled passion.

It was as pure and true as to be unique only, and especially, to them.

Emerging from the shadows, Arianne felt as though she was intruding on a delicate moment between two lovers, despite the fact that one of them was, in fact, her husband.

Like watching from a far-away cloud, Arianne's eyes followed them. Sunshine cascaded over her curls, which shrouded her eyes from the light. Basked in the brisk coldness of half-shadow, she felt her heart wrench in her chest like a banging, clanging, strangled drum. All the sudden, all the warnings her father had given her about love, all the strange tales her nursemaid used to tell her, all the painful, melancholy songs she had ever heard (had ever _truly_ heard) began to rankle in her, beginning with the follicles of her hair, and shimmering down to the nails in her toes, screeching a deadly, most piercing note.

And yet she stayed her hand. She stayed her hand. It was stayed.

Daenerys drank him in, knowing that it was exactly what she had desired all along—her mind and heart had played in symphony, guiding her to him, to the pureness of his love for her. His chest – was perfect—his neck—most pleasing to lay kisses to – his lips—soft and yielding beneath hers.

"Why don't we do this more often? Why don't we just—" he paused for emphasis, a smile in his eyes. "—do _this_ more often?" He asked, his tone raspy with contentment.

"Because I'm a fool." She said, nuzzling more completely into him, until she was finally on his lap.

Her weight was welcome, and soft. Her barefoot feet dangled off the other side of the lounge, petite and pretty, bare and soft.

"Before we fade away into dust, I trust that we will both enjoy this moment while it lasts?" She said, jaded beyond her years and enjoying the moment more than she could possibly admit.

"I don't plan on fading into dust any time soon, but yes, I do agree that we should savor this moment." He said, kissing her head. Before she knew it, she had dozed off. Happy to continue on as they were, Viserys merely plucked his book off the ground and continued to read about the history of the previous kings of Westeros. It was, after all, informational.

Arianne watched them relax, now herself resting against the cool marble walls of the open-air foyer. Flushing, she realized that she did not belong where she stood. After she left, the room resonated with only the soft breathing of the two lovers.

That night she was awoken with a loud screech from one of her dragons, who was hissing and spitting, perched upon the end of her canopy bed. The other two joined in, and were now spitting fire.

Daenerys sat up in bed immediately and using her most authoritative voice, demanded an answer.

"Who are you?"

When there was only the fragmented shell of silence, and a slight whisper of cloth, she assumed it was an assassin.

"Dracarys!" She commanded immediately, sensing the entity coming closer, and her dragons, in unison, let forth their flames, bursting with that most vicious of fires, purple-hot, Valyrian dragon fire.

It was a human scream she heard next, and almost as though Daenerys too, was startled, she leapt out of bed, in the opposite direction of the assassin.

The burning body had caught fire, and though the cloaked assassin was still wiggling, it was in the death throws, and not in the attempt of someone trying to get to their feet.

"Mari! Anyone, come here now!" Daenerys yelled. Her dragons came to her immediately, sensing her distress. Knowing that someone would come soon, Daenerys fumbled to light one of the scattered oil lamps in her room. Late, she realized that the best way to light the lamp was with the still burning body of the man. Of course she was not going near the dead body. At least not yet.

Guards rushed in carrying torches, and thus light, their swords already out and ready for action. But what they saw was a most interesting scene: Daenerys, in her bed gown, surrounded by dragons the size of small horses, and a burning body to the opposite.

"He's dead." She said with finality. "Pull the mask off. I would know my would-be assassin." Her words were calm, though her heart was beating with excitement. Mari arrived, looking stricken and pale. She rushed over to Daenerys and hugged her. Daenerys made no move to return the embrace, her eyes fastened to the man who was now being carried to the center of the room.

The dead person had been burnt to a crisp, that much was evident. The twin set of daggers looked deadly; dipped in poison. They had been discarded in the tumult, but they were laid beside the body as evidence. When the black mask was pulled off, Daenerys immediately recognized the assassin as someone she had met before, someone quite close to Arianne Martell.

It was her archery instructor. That much Daenerys could still discern from the painful grimace the woman had worn just prior to death. It was sad, and she immediately ordered for the perpetrator to be taken away.

"Please," she whispered, gesturing for them to take her away.

For some undiscernable reason, Daenerys doubted that Arianne had anything to do with it. _A crime of love? An assassination carried out for love of the Martell princess and heir? _She would have to speak to Viserys about this. Not to mention, she was more than a little shaken up.

"Mari, are you here?" She said aloud, hoping her closest confidant would no doubt be close. Her hopes were well-founded, as the shivering brunette inched closer.

"Everything will be alright," she assured her, patting her shoulder with the intention of giving comfort. The girl took the gesture for what it was and relaxed slightly.

"Would you fetch me some tea with milk and honey? I'm afraid I won't be able to go to sleep after this."

Nodding, the girl swept off to complete her errand, and Daenerys gave a sigh of relief and sat down in a nearby chair.

"Shall we clean the mess, my lady?" Two earnest servants stood not too far away, and Daenerys nodded in reply, too tired to say much more.

As she waited for them to fetch water and soap to sanitize the carpet which had been burnt and bloodied, Daenerys felt very, very far away from it all.

Her mind, for all its efficiency, was now fading out. She closed her eyes until her tea arrived, then sipped upon the cup, waiting for the other members of the Martell family to knock upon her door and quiz her upon her already disturbing night.

* * *

><p>Another day passed. Even though the wedding date had been set, Daenerys had politely insisted on another day to get her head straight after the assassination attempt.<p>

When finally the moment of the hour came, Daenerys felt scarcely prepared, though she did manage to look the part that she had waited so long to play. And the faint pink hue of her cheeks, which was actually due to her anxiety, managed to set off, flawlessly, her long, elegantly draped, traditional ivory wedding dress. Her silvery hair, the color of her dress, draped down her back in loose curls, while fragrant, petite white roses nestled in the bun that kept all but a few girlish curls from framing her face.

In the large banquet hall, well-placed pews paraded the wedding parties on either side, while fashioned Targaryen flags flew like banners up and down either side of the room. Surprisingly enough, the room was packed, and her maid-servant had alerted her that the room was filled with families allied with the Targaryens, families that resented the golden lions that had usurped the throne from the Stag.

Viserys stood at the raised dais, next to him was Arianne's brother Quentyn, and a few other Martell family members that they had respectively met (and promptly forgotten their names, unfortunately). Viserys, in a pale gold, knee-length coat that subtly gathered at his waist, looked every inch a prince, his lilac eyes fastened upon her with a pride that she had scarcely known before their journey to Westeros. It had been a whirlwind romance, to be sure, Daenerys reflected distantly, moving with every step closer to her brother. No one walked beside her, and so like a lone flame, she burned, her cheeks becoming more heated with every passing moment, until she at last reached his side, looking up at him from her diminutive height.

_This is it, _she thought nervously. But when Viserys smiled down at her, and he gently used his finger to tilt her chin up, Daenerys instantly felt all her qualms melting away into a pure, unequivocal joy. Slowly, Daenerys smiled back at him, and they turned to the priest as the ceremony began.

Bespeckled, and with an endearing pot belly, the priest's wizened voice flew over the congregants like a warm breeze. For strength, the two siblings took solace in one another's gazes. At this, his second wedding, Viserys felt nothing but the refreshing feel of a well-made decision, and his beautiful bride, most likely the most beautiful woman in the seven kingdoms, rewarded him with the confident gaze of an accomplished person.

"Viserys, do you take this woman to be your wife, to have and to hold, 'till death do you part?"

"I do," he said assuredly, squeezing her hands, which were enfolded in his.

"And Daenerys, do you take this man to be your husband, to have and to hold, 'till death do you part?"

"I do," she said, her feminine voice soft and melodic in the large, echoing space.

"From this day forward I now pronounce you man and wife. You may kiss the bride."

Without even a moment's hesitation, Viserys swooped forward and lay a kiss upon his sister's cool lips, gathering her small waist in his shaking hands as he gently yet firmly claimed her as his, before the entire congregation.

There was a large sigh, and an earth-shattering commencement of clapping and cheering, as though, indeed, a great moment in time had taken place before the congregations' very eyes.

Shy, Daenerys clung to her brother's chest, hiding her face before finally revealing a smile as they then took their first step forward as husband and wife. As everyone then stood to clap, the pews were moved and large tables took their place. Only the finest lace tablecloths were swept onto the tables, and silver trays of food were placed upon them. As the banquet room transformed into a reception area, guests marveled at the sweeping elegance of their surroundings and, most significantly, at the stunning Targaryen couple.

Notably absent, was Arianne. Though the rest of the family was present, Arianne had found solace in her quarters, surrounded by only her closest maidservant. Though her absence was noted, it was not remarkable, as it was only understandable.

The only way to truly understand the happiness of the couple, was to see their shining faces and understand that every single gesture and action was limited to their true, innate, personal contentment. After a time, Daenerys' dragons were allowed out, into a pen, where then the onlookers could gasp and admire their jewel-like beauty, and the dangerous proximity of their existence. Once let loose, Daenerys immediately made a beeline for them, so maternal in her actions, that, casting aside the circumstances of the situation, she embraced each one more closely and fondly than the last. Their delighted purrs and screeches were heard by all, but most intently by the Targaryens.

Ciders and beers and sparkling wine were served first on platters by a handsome wait staff clad in Martell and Targaryen colors. Pig, pheasant, quail, and duck were served, each platter more decadent and decorated than the last. Whether standing or sitting, each guest was served in a most opulent manner, and thus were satisfied in sight, smell, taste, and sound.

A small orchestra played celebrated pieces from acclaimed Westerosi composers, the soft tunes rising like an undercurrent through the interspersed crowd.

The celebration lasted a long time, with all being cordial and civilized all the while. When Viserys and Daenerys finally departed, herded toward a private villa just off the grounds, everyone raised their cup in cheers.

After a time, Viserys and Daenerys were alone, and when Viserys gently closed the door behind them, now enclosed in the sumptuous and spacious anteroom of their private villa, Daenerys collapsed into his arms.

The dragons, having been likewise herded into the villa, cawed in happiness at seeing their mother. With utmost gentility, Viserys placed the sweetest of kisses on the crown of his sister's hair, smelling the ever-fragrant roses still perched in the spun silk bun of her hair.

"Well? Was it all that you expected?" He asked in a whisper.

She looked up at him and slowly smiled.

"You are mine and I am yours. That is something I have always known," she said, tilting up on tiptoes to kiss his lips.

Viserys let loose a sigh of pleasure as he covered his sister's mouth with his own, kissing her with the craving of an unfettered appetite. When she moaned into his mouth and clung to his very form as if she wanted to completely sink into him, it was all he could do hike up her silk skirt and lift her up around his waist. With a purr, Daenerys nuzzled his neck and laid a number of tiny kisses and love bites, grinding into him with her own curvaceous, youthful figure. Her naked feet (her shoes having been cast off moments before) stroked the backs of his pant-clad thighs.

With a groan, he swiveled and pressed her against the wall as he loosened himself from the constraint of his trousers and then ruthlessly sought the comfort of her for his now-enormous manhood. When Daenerys felt him inside her, her head fell back against the wall as he slid perfectly, smoothly, unanimously, inside her. They both gasped with the sensation, and he sought the pale sweetness of her neck as he then grasped her ass and began jostling her so she fell continually upon him.

Daenerys watched her feet bounce as she cried out in pleasure. She clung to him for stability, racked with the complete absorption of him.

Soon, they moved to the nearest soft piece of furniture, in this case, an open-air bed in the middle of the foyer, where they were then able to finish this, their first act of making love as husband and wife.

When finally they fell apart from each other, gasping for air, feeling the heat of their loins ebb, they cradled one another for an hour or so, before one or the other began to become restless and call for a servant to bring yet another morsel-filled meal before finally going to bed.

Daenerys, the found sheet slipping from over her breasts, her hair tousled, and glowing with sleep and previous exertion, sought the comfort of her brother's eyes. He, wearing just his trousers, turned to her just by happenstance, and raised his eyebrows at her, smiling all the while.

"What is it?" He asked, baited by the secretive measure of her long-lashed stare.

"I'm pregnant." She said, finally.

His eyes widened as he moved toward her with the urgency of a man compelled by love and honor.

"What? When? And how long?" He said, taking her hands in his.

"It must have been on the beach, during that coastal storm," she said, echoing his excited energy.

"Oh, Daenerys…" He said, taking her in his arms once again, kissing her over and over.

"Wait," he said, pausing. "Should I be careful with you? What… is the protocol?"

"He … or she… will be strong. I can already feel it now. You may treat me as you always have."

With reverence, Viserys laid a cool kiss on her brow, innately marveling at the spectacular nature of life.


End file.
